Tribal Guardians
by Debra N
Summary: Vin's Sentinel abilities come on line, Jim's flying into Denver and, of course, the day wouldn't be complete without Chris and Blair walking into trouble. Fourth story in the 'Finding Family' series.
1. Questions expected and otherwise

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Magnificent Seven or the Sentinel. No profit has been made and no harm is intended.

**Author notes:** I would like to thank Caitriona3 for her work as beta, she did a great job and any remaining mistakes are my fault. I also wanted to thank all off the readers who sent feedback way back when this series started out as just one scene. I hope you'll find this latest addition worth the wait.

The Finding Family series includes the following stories:

Finding Family by Debra Noellert

Family and Strangers by Susan M. M.

Family Business by MistyC

Tribal Guardians by Debra Noellert (which you are about to read) Links to the stories by Susan and Misty can be found in my 'Favorite Stories' tab.

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><p>They'd been on the road for thirty minutes, another ten would see them arriving at their destination, the Denver federal building. Chris had taken the time thus far to explain bits of the local history and culture while pointing out places of interest as they passed. He figured both the anthropologist and the detective parts of his son would appreciate knowing more about his new surroundings. Chris had already sent an email to Travis to let him know that the ATF Team Leader would be taking half off today as well as the rest of the week for some personal time. It wasn't a request he often made and Travis was happy to grant it. It would just take a couple of hours to finish up some paperwork and make arrangements for the others to cover the investigations that couldn't be left unattended. Then he could show Blair around the Denver office, maybe even take the team out for lunch before spending the rest of the day doing the tourist thing. It didn't really matter to Chris where they went; he just wanted the opportunity to learn more about his son.<p>

There was one aspect of his son that Chris was particularly curious about. He knew what it meant for Blair to be a detective and he had a pretty firm grasp of what being an anthropologist entailed, but Blair's position as Guide, the Guide of the Cascade Sentinel and fellow detective James Ellison, had Chris completely baffled. Blair's offhand comment that Chris was likely Vin's Guide had surprised Chris. Ezra and JD's calm nodding acceptance of Blair's proclamation had actually irritated him; like they'd somehow known that if one of the team was Vin's Guide, it had to be Chris. Not that Chris objected to being Vin's Guide; he just didn't know what being Vin's Guide involved, and Chris had always hated being placed in positions that he didn't fully understand.

"So what exactly makes you think that I'm a Guide?" Chris finally asked.

Blair chuckled. He'd actually been a bit surprised that the question hadn't come up last night when he'd first suggested the possibility to his father. Apparently Chris was the sort to consider new ideas before questioning them. "Besides a gut feeling?" Blair questioned. At Chris' nod he continued, "Truthfully, I've got no idea if being a Guide is genetic the way being a Sentinel is. But if it is I did _not_ inherit my Guide abilities from Naomi. When Jim is having problems with his senses Naomi just makes everything worse; any genetic Guide abilities I have must have come from you. If being a Guide isn't genetic then experience tells me that the most important factor in a Guide is whether their Sentinel trusts them."

Blair shifted in his seat to focus completely on Chris. "Last night you mentioned anam-cara; referring to Vin as your soul-friend. That's the level of trust a Sentinel needs to reach their full potential." Blair paused as he struggled to find the best words. He had to say this just right; had to make certain that his father truly understood. "There are times when Jim stretches out so far with his senses that he's not only tight-rope walking a zone; he's literally relying on me to maintain his sanity. That can't be done on anything less than soul deep trust."

Chris silently digested the information Blair had just shared. Chris admitted he liked the idea that Blair might have inherited this extraordinary ability to Guide a Sentinel from him. However it was both his practical side and his spiritual side that recognized the truth about Blair's words on trust. Since the first time Chris's eyes met Vin's there had been a connection, one so strong that the others on the team sometimes accused them of being able to read each other's minds. They couldn't of course, but there was often an intuitive understanding of what and how the other man was thinking. Barring a few bad experiences (Charlotte and Ella to be specific), soul deep trust had always come surprising easy to Chris and Vin. If that was all Chris needed to be Vin's Guide, then perhaps Ezra and JD were right to think that he fit the bill.

It wasn't long before they were pulling into the parking garage and preparing to enter Chris' work place. "Is there a way you'd prefer me to introduce you around the office?" asked Chris. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable or seem presumptuous." Chris wanted to announce to everyone in the building that this was his son, but decided that fatherly pride needed to take a back seat to Blair's wishes.

Caught off guard by the question, Blair used his time getting out of Chris' truck to formulate an answer. "I appreciate the consideration," Blair began, "but this is your office and you're the one who's going to be stuck answering questions and dealing with the rumor mill after I'm gone. So I guess whatever you think is going to work best for you is fine with me." Blair certainly didn't want to hide their relationship as father and son but neither did he want to force Chris into a situation he wasn't ready for.

"All right then," was Chris's vague reply as he opened the door to the Federal Building's lobby. Heading straight for the security desk, Chris greeted the agent manning the post, "Greg, I'm going to need a visitor's pass for my son, Blair. He's a police detective from Cascade, just in town for a few days and I wanted to give him the grand tour."

Obvious surprise flashed across Greg's face but there was neither hesitation nor questions as he brought up the required forms on his computer. "I'd be happy to arrange that," he answered Chris. "I'm going to need to see your ID for a moment," Greg directed at Blair.

For his part Bair was biting his lip in an attempt to contain the smile that had blossomed upon hearing Chris declare his paternity. It was absurd to be so happy about Chris claiming him but he was. It took a couple of moments for the new pass to be laminated. When Greg set it on the counter Chris was the one to snatch it up and clip it to Blair's shirt pocket with a crooked grin on his face. "Am I missing something," Blair wondered as Chris's impish grin continued.

Meeting Blair's eyes Chris admitted, "I've never done one of these 'Take your child to work' days before."

Blair let the laughter bubble up at Chris's comparison to the annual event that saw parents from all levels of the work force bringing their school children to work to teach them what it was their parents did while they were at school all day. Suddenly Blair had an image of himself at age ten chasing after Chris while asking 1001 questions about what it was like to be an ATF agent. He was starting to like Chris' sense of humor. Waving one hand forward he insisted, "Then lead on Dad, I want to see everything you've got to show me." With that the two made their way to the elevators.

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><p>"Break room is over there." Chris motioned to his left before leading Blair into the team's main office area. "In here we have the bull pen with the rest of the team's desks. The empty ones obviously belong to Nathan and Josiah." Chris turned to direct a question at Buck. "Does Josiah have an estimate on when they'll be getting back?"<p>

"Josiah said it would take the rest of the day for him to wrap up the interviews. They figured they'd drive home this evening and be back to work in the morning," answered Buck. Then he reached over to pull several sheets from his printer and added, "Here is the report on the Hillsboro pipe bomb."

"You will find the Hallay expense report," Ezra spoke up, "waiting for you on your desk along with Mr. Tanner's ammunition requisition."

Chris' eyes narrowed in suspicion. His team was never this calmly prepared. Not that they were chronically late, but rushing to finish a report on time wasn't uncommon. Three of his team offering him paperwork before he'd even asked for it was unheard of. "To what do I owe this sudden burst of efficiency?" he wondered aloud.

From the desk beside them JD snorted. "Might have something to do with Vin's threats to maim and kill us if we didn't make it easy for you to leave the office as soon as possible." Vin shot JD a dirty look while Buck swatted him on the back of the head. "Ouch! What? Nobody said it was a secret."

When Chris merely raised an eyebrow in Vin's direction the sharpshooter explained, "Just figured you would want to spend your day with your son, not nagging us to get our paperwork done." Chris tipped his head in a small sign of thanks.

The sound of movement in the hall followed by a rapping knock shifted everyone's attention back to the office entrance. Ryan Kelly, the leader of ATF Team Eight, and one of the few people outside his team that Chris both liked and respected, was leaning through the doorway with just the slightest hint of desperation on his face. "Larabee, please tell me you and your team don't have anything too important going on today."

Buck coughed, JD groaned, Ezra muttered in French and Vin just shook his head. Chris turned back to Blair while duty and loyalty battled to choose the higher priority; time with his son or a coworker in need. Before Chris had a chance to say anything Blair spoke up, "I'm in law enforcement too. I understand how emergencies crop up in the middle of things."

Hearing this Kelly realized, "Crap, you did have other plans." He didn't recognize the thirtyish man speaking to Larabee, but from the reactions of Larabee's team he was someone important. Kelly didn't like putting Larabee on the spot, but when the lives of his people were at risk he wanted the best as their back up and that meant Team Seven.

Chris motioned for Ryan to come all the way into the office. "Tell me what the problem is," he insisted. Chris knew Ryan Kelly to be a rather calm, collected leader; the situation had to be pretty bad for him to be looking this tense.

"You're aware that Agent Stone has spent almost two years slowly infiltrating the Militia for America's Redeeming Salvation aka MARS." At Chris's nod Ryan continued, "Douglas was invited to move to the main compound about three months back by Timothy Miles, their most recent religious leader. During the last few months there's been an upswing in the group's level of paranoia accompanied by several shifts of power. Doug's been able to take advantage of it to work further into the group's hierarchy. He's given us their weapons suppliers, the planned purchase of twenty surface to air missiles, and helped us disrupt their attempts to get dirty bomb materials all while maintaining his cover. The last month and a half has been continuous deep cover with almost no contact though three weeks ago he was able to bring in Kirk Gustin as his cousin. The plan was to arrest the MARS leaders and their suppliers at the proposed SAM missile purchase in four days, but twenty minutes ago we received Doug's distress beacon. We failed to establish contact but did hear from Kirk; he and the Pritchards, one of the families living on the compound, are fleeing on foot out the north end of the valley on Doug's instructions. All he told Kirk was he needed to get the kids out before Timothy Miles started making them all drink the Kool-Aid."

Several of the men in the room shuddered as they recognized the reference to Jim Jones the religious leader that forced his congregation to drink poisoned Kool-Aid in a massive murder-suicide. "Henry Pritchard is also MIA; he was the confidential informant that helped enable Doug to get so far into the group. He's also the only one within the group that knows my agents' true identities."

Ryan paused in his recital to run a hand through his hair. "We were supposed to have Team Six back us, but they're still on the road trying to get back from Missouri, and I don't trust those yahoos on Five not to start a firefight."

Chris felt a smirk cross his lips. "Are you sure you trust my boys not to start a firefight?"

"Better than Terry's team," Kelly replied without hesitation, "and at least your boys know how to get out of a shootout without a huge body count."

Chris could easily understand why Kelly was concerned. With Doug MIA and Kirk trapped on sight with not just civilians but children, it meant that Ryan only had his sniper Brett Jordan and his newest recruit Lydia Jones to call upon. Kelly's smaller team left him more dependent on outside support and the quality of the potential support varied widely.

Chris studied his team for a moment. "Josiah and Nathan are on a separate investigation and I wasn't expecting them back until tomorrow." Letting his eyes settle on Blair the thought crossed Chris's mind that he could possibly have his cake and eat it too. "Have you ever worked a surveillance van?" Chris asked his son.

"Yeah," Blair replied, "I've worked surveillance on several occasions."

Turning back to Kelly, Chris offered, "With Blair seconding JD in the van we'll have Buck free to replace Josiah, but we'll still be down a tactical medic."

"That's better than I've got now," assured Kelly, "Lydia isn't certified as a tactical medic yet but she's been working towards it and can pinch hit as long as the situation doesn't go totally FUBAR."

Chris cut in before Kelly could continue. "You should be aware that Blair is a police detective from Cascade, Washington, not an ATF agent. He also happens to be my son." He kept talking right through Kelly's jaw-dropped shock. "Blair's mom was my high school sweetheart and we just found out about each other yesterday."

Kelly would have loved to be able to take some time to absorb that extraordinary bit of news, but he knew his people would be almost ready to move by now and he needed to focus on the job at hand. "Okay, well I already know how Team Seven operates in the field so all I really need from you is a no bullshit assessment on your field skills," Kelly told Blair.

Blair took a moment to consider which of his skills would be most beneficial to the lead agent. "In addition to having a fair understanding of surveillance equipment, I'm rated as a marksman in firearms and I've successfully negotiated during several hostage situations including two in the last three months. In both cases my partner and I were the first responders and I was able to convince the perpetrators to surrender before there was any loss of life." Letting a small grin escape Blair added, "I'm not a certified negotiator but I've been told I'm good at convincing people to believe what I need them to believe."

Kelly nodded, feeling more at ease now that he had Larabee, most of his team and even Larabee's 'not really a negotiator' son backing him up. "Good to know. Grab your gear. I want us on the road in ten. You'll be further briefed en route." Kelly glanced at his watch before adding, "It's now been twenty-five minutes since we received the distress beacon and it will take us at least eighty minutes to reach the compound, so get moving people."

The response was instantaneous as Vin, Buck and Ezra gathered weapons, JD and Blair packed what equipment they'd need for the van and Chris joined Kelly to collect maps and information on their target destination.


	2. On the job

JD and Blair were set up in a surveillance van about half a mile from the main entrance, close enough to manage communications yet far enough to avoid detection. Blair had instructions to take the wheel if they needed to either move in or withdraw. Ezra was on the other side of the valley with Team Eight's rookie Lydia trying to make their way on foot towards Kirk Gustin, Dana Pritchard and the five Pritchard children escaping the MARS compound cross country. Gustin's most recent report, that he and the family had been fired upon but remained unharmed had Ezra and Lydia moving through the mountainous wilderness with steely determination. The snipers, Vin and Brett, had climbed up some giant trees taking position on either side of MARS property allowing them to put almost half of the compound's main buildings within a crossfire. Buck was cautiously ringing the compound with half a dozen state troopers. They had specifically avoided notifying the county's Sheriff Department due to ample evidence that MARS members were bribing at least two of its officers to look the other way. Ryan Kelly and Chris Larabee were closest to the MARS front gate. Ryan had been adamant that he would not sit on his ass in the rear while others pulled his agents out of harm's way, and Chris had been equally adamant that Ryan needed someone to watch his six.

Blair was internally reviewing much of the information they'd been briefed on during their approach to the secluded survivalist camp. MARS had been founded more than thirty years before by three men and their families because they loved their independence and their guns; despised taxes and bureaucracy; and generally distrusted any form of 'government meddling'. These men had brought their families to this remote valley far from any city or even sizable town and built a small yet almost completely self sufficient village that had slowly grown to more than twenty families. The group was known to stockpile weapons, food and fuel for what they saw as the inevitable collapse of the US government. They'd drawn little government attention because for most of their history they'd followed the law while creating their safe haven. One of the founding members had died of a heart attack, another been crippled by a stroke leaving Richard Karnack as the patriarch-leader. Thankfully his faith in the constitutional ideals insured that the compound remained more of a democracy than a dictatorship. Things began to change when the group allowed a traveling minister to join. Timothy Miles was a charismatic thirty-five year old that had quickly won over many with his fiery sermons and passionate displays of faith. Soon after, whispers from various sources indicated that some within MARS were interested in weapons that were geared more towards massive destruction than mere survival. Worse yet, in the past year a clear schism had formed within the group, with some falling into Karnack's camp while others advocated for Miles to take over MARS leadership. Most of the information agent Douglas Stone had uncovered indicated that it was Miles' group which was seeking out ever more dangerous weapons, but the higher ups in the ATF were inclined to arrest everyone and sort out the evidence later.

JD picked up some chatter with his directional microphone indicating that Timothy Miles had received one of his supposed divine visions. He had claimed visions before, but this was the first time he insisted that one of his visions demanded action from all of the MARS members. According to Miles, Satan was trying to bedevil their group and the only way for anyone to survive was to swear allegiance to him and to sacrifice any who refused or showed signs of corruption. While the swearing of allegiance wasn't too horrible a problem for most of the group, the vague 'signs of corruption' soon caused turmoil. JD had half feared that Miles had somehow discovered Stone's true identity and wanted to make the agent an example for the rest of the group, but as he continued to record the overheard conversations, it became clear that Miles had another target in mind. Calling an assembly, he'd accused Richard Karnack of being in league with Satan. Most of MARS had been dumbfounded by the accusation since Karnack had helped found the group. Ryan didn't sound nearly as surprised as those within as he explained to the other ATF agents that, according to Doug, Karnack had been against Miles' rise to power and saw Miles' supposed visions as 'theatrics to mislead the sheep'. When Miles had gone on to insist that Karnack's wife, children and grandchildren must be 'burned out' to cleanse and unify the group, chaos had erupted. From what JD could hear the forty-five adults at the assembly seemed pretty evenly split between Miles' followers and MARS members that thought Miles was going off the deep end.

The longer Blair listened, the bigger the knot in his stomach became as he struggled to sort through the virulent mix of accusation, fear and paranoia. The hardest part for Blair to listen to was the way Timothy Miles deliberately whipped up a frenzied mix of violent emotions, manipulating their direction to suit his purpose much the way a circus performer manipulated various wild cats to jump through hoops. Knowing that Miles had at least twenty people eager to jump through whatever hoops he presented made Blair question the supposed superiority of the rational mind. Recognizing that he and JD were too far to be of immediate help was more than a little frustrating. Blair understood Ryan's reasoning for keeping the ATF presence hidden until they had a better understanding of the situation. The ATF leader clearly wanted to avoid a disaster scenario like Waco or Ruby Ridge. But with every word that filtered through the speakers, Blair became more certain that Miles was too fanatical to allow the day to end without bloodshed.

"Why are we even discussing this," demanded on impassioned male voice. "Timothy is a true prophet. We need to obey him or face God's wrath!"

Within the van JD let out a derisive snort, "What a total nut job."

Blair wished he could dismiss the speaker so easily. "He sounds worse than crazy to me. He sounds like a true believer." JD's brows arched in question, but before Blair could elaborate on his concerns, Timothy Miles' voice leapt out of the speaker.

"I'm afraid, my flock, that the Karnack family is not the only one unworthy of our trust." After a dramatic pause, Miles continued, "Tell us, Henry Pritchard, where exactly are your wife and children right now?"

The next voice, while unknown to Blair, was instantly recognized by JD and the other ATF agents as Team Eight's undercover specialist Douglas Stone. "You need to be pointing that rifle away from my friend, Miles, especially since he ain't the one that's responsible for their absence. I am."

"Do tell," demanded Miles in a venomous hiss.

"It's simple," drawled Stone in his most charming voice, "I've got no problem with a stand up fight against any branch of our liberal pansy excuse for a government. I'll take on lawyers and federal agents; I'll even take on the whole damned army without a care." His boasting drew more than a few chuckles and actually seemed to dial down the tension level at least a notch or two before he spoke again, "But when some Holy Roller want-a-be starts ranting about 'sacrificing' and 'burning' people, even innocent kids, who are supposed to be under the protection of our militia, well then you'd better believe I've got a big damn problem!"

Blair cursed under his breath even as he recognized the agent's tactic. By drawing the focus of Miles' attention Doug was protecting his confidential informant. Of course that drastically increased his risk, but such concerns seem to have been pushed aside in the heat of the moment.

Through the air of the van Douglas's words continued to vibrate. "Now I don't give a rat's ass if you think you're a prophet with divine visions, because I heard you this morning talking to your groupies about how the best way to unify everyone under your leadership would be with a test of faith. And I've got to say Miles it all sounded a little too 'Jim Jones' for my comfort. Your followers might be ready to drink your Kool-Aid but the rest of us aren't interested. So yeah, I told my cousin and Dana to head for the hills with the kids while Henry and I tried to stop you from doing something we'd all regret. If I'd known you were planning to wave your accusing finger at Karnack's clan, I'd have told them to run too."

"How dare you?" Miles shouted, enraged not only by the insulting comparisons be tossed around, but also by the unexpected betrayal. Until now the man Miles knew as Donald Colt (Doug's undercover identity) had always supported and been loyal to the back-woods prophet. While he was aware that Colt was friends with Pritchard he didn't see that as enough justification to switch sides.

"How dare you?" Douglas threw right back, "How dare you use your 'visions' and your threats against one of the men who not only founded this militia but helped build the very hall that you're standing in? You want to lead your faithful followers to the Promised Land, go ahead and lead away, but do it somewhere else, because I ain't standing by while you tear this compound apart from the inside out."

"Neither am I," asserted the voice of Henry Pritchard. Suddenly numerous agreements both male and female were heard as well as the all too distinct sound of cocking weapons. Every law enforcement agent tensed, recognizing that they were just a hair's breath away from a blood bath.

"Looks like they're with me," entered the gruff yet strong voice of MARS patriarch Richard Karnack. "While I admit that I'm inclined to just take you out back and shoot you like the rabid dog that you are, I've got no interest in cleaning up the mess or answering questions about what happened to you later. So I'll show you a bit of the mercy you weren't going to show me. Drop your guns and leave now with the cloths that you're wearing. I'll give you five minutes to grab your keys and wallets so you can drive away. After all we don't want you lingering about. You'll find your other belongings at the end of our drive Wednesday morning, with the rest of the garbage." Karnack didn't bother to hide the derision in his tone as he continued. "Or you can prove just how stupid you are and try to turn this into a replay of the OK Corral, but I promise you: if it comes to bloodshed I will personally make sure that you are the first to die." An icy shiver ran down Blair's spine as he listened to the coldly worded oath.

An uncomfortable silence passed before Miles finally gave his reply. "It saddens me to see so little faith yet so much corruption gathered here," he began in a surprisingly convincing tone. "I had hoped that more of you would see the true light of salvation, but clearly my time here is at an end. Still not all is lost. I know my flock has grown even in this wasteland. Come with me and we will build a new city away from this evil place." The shuffling of movement was punctuated by indistinct grumbles. "Fear not. The Lord has grand plans for we persecuted few," Miles assured.

A static click from a separate speaker was followed by Brett's voice. "I've got Miles leaving the hall followed by six . . . seven others that appear to be departing with him. They're starting to get into the cars now. Looks to be two families and several adults . . ."

"I want the make, model and plate numbers for every one of those vehicles, as well as names and descriptions for the people inside them," instructed Ryan.

"Confirmed, I'm recording Brett's visual feed," JD updated.

"We will hold our locations and allow Miles' people to pass unhampered. We are staying on the compound until my agents inside give the all clear," Ryan asserted.

"JD, Miles is making a cell call if you can catch it," Brett notified from his sniper perch.

"I'm on it," JD assured, making a few adjustment to the surveillance equipment before him.

Seconds later a hollow ring was followed by, "This is John," from an unknown male.

"Have you caught up with Colt's cousin and Pritchard's family yet?" demanded Miles as he unknowingly referred to Kirk's undercover identity.

"Not yet," admitted John, "but we've fired off a few rounds to keep them scared, and there's only so fast they can carry the little ones. Are we still bringing them back for judgment?"

"No. The sins Colt and Pritchard have committed against me deserve swift retribution," insisted Miles, "Kill them all and leave the bodies for the scavengers. Then continue out the back end of the valley. We'll meet you at the sharp hook on the dirt road. We are leaving MARS behind. They turned out to be unworthy of our Lord's vision."

"Even the kids?" asked John hesitantly.

"Better that they pass into our Lord's Kingdom before their souls are further tainted by the wickedness of their parents," replied Miles with solemn assurance. "Remember: To obey our Lord's Prophet is to-"

"Obey our Lord," John finished Miles' statement, religious fervor slipping into his voice. "I will obey, even if the task demands my life in forfeit."

"Definitely a true believer," assessed Blair as the cell call was ended.

"New plan, everyone," Ryan commanded, "As soon as Miles' group is outside the compound move in to apprehend. Blair position the van to block their exit. Minimal force on Miles, we need him to rescind the kill order. All agents; go on my word." Blair was already easing the van out of its hiding spot. Ryan waited until the fourth caravan vehicle exited the compound. The gates were swinging closed behind them when Ryan ordered, "Now! Now! Now!"

Blair accelerated until the first of the vehicles was about five car lengths away and then turned the van to a hard sudden stop with its broadside facing the oncoming truck; completely blocking the narrow dirt road. The surveillance vehicle was barely in park before Blair was out of the cab aiming a rifle at Miles' 4X4 while JD took up similar aim from cover near the back. Buck and the troopers swarmed both sides of the caravan ordering everyone to stop and get out of the vehicles. When a jeep in the middle tried to turn off road two bullets, one from Brett and one from Vin, flattened a tire and punctured the engine block effectively crippled its escape. Back within the MARS compound, many of the survivalists were near panic at having Federal Agents so close and in such force, but Richard Karnack reasserted command and ordered his people to hold their positions, since clearly it was Miles who was the target of the government sting.

Ryan raced over to Miles as the religious leader stepped out of his truck. "I've already got you solid on numerous charges including conspiracy to commit multiple murders. If you want to avoid them becoming full-fledged federal murder charges, you're going to call back your friend John and tell him to head to the meeting place immediately without killing anyone."

Miles smirked back at the ATF leader, "I really don't know what you're talking about, though I'm sure that whatever John is doing, he is fulfilling God's will." Offering up both wrists Miles asked, "Would you like to arrest me now?"

Ryan wanted nothing more than to smack the smug look off the religious zealot's face, and he had no doubt that Chris would look the other way while he did so. Unfortunately it wouldn't help get Kirk or the Pritchards out of danger. Collecting the man's cell phone Ryan turned towards the surveillance van. "Blair, do you think you can talk this John out of committing murder?"

"Honestly, no," Blair replied. "Everything I heard indicates that John's faith in Miles is absolute, and he is eager to do whatever it takes to prove his worth to his 'prophet' even martyr himself. Besides that, even if I could talk him out of it he's not alone in that valley. He said, '_we've_ fired off a few rounds,' that means that at least one other unknown suspect is out there with him." Blair offered his final assessment, "We have got to find another way to get to them before they reach the kids."

Chris signaled to Ezra, "How far are you and Lydia?"

Ezra's voice echoed through the device in Chris's ear, "We're just under a mile from Agent Gustin's homing beacon." A rifle shot in the distance rumbled through the valley followed seconds later by two more. "And moving with all due haste," Ezra finished his voice now panting into the mike. Chris grimaced. Under a mile might not seem much on clear, level terrain but Ezra and Lydia were pushing themselves through an unfamiliar and mountainous landscape. It was doubtful that they would be within helping distance for at least eight minutes and even that was optimistic.

"Ryan," this time it was JD's voice over the com channel. Chris hadn't even noticed the young agent slip back into the van after hearing the gunfire. "Gustin says that they're close to being overtaken by their pursuers. He has counted three behind them all with high powered rifles, and he's only got a hand gun and a single rifle to hold them off."

"Does anyone have eyes on the Pritchards?" Though Ryan's question seemed open to all, it was truly aimed at the snipers who had the best view of the valley from their perches.

"Negative," Brett answered first. "I've got a bit of movement near the clearing on the northwest face of the valley but it's too far for a shot."

"The movement is Kirk, Dana Pritchard and her kids. Kirk is carrying the youngest girl and they're running all out," Vin spoke up. "If their pursuers enter the clearing I should at least be able to pin them down with cover fire, but I can't do it from here. Every time the wind blows I've got tree branches blocking my line of sight. I need to get to the roof of the MARS meeting hall. It's the only place with a completely unobstructed view of the clearing." Even as Vin finished his assessment he stowed his weapon and cautiously began to make his way down the tree.

A quick glance between the now handcuffed yet smiling Miles and the MARS gates brought Ryan to a decision. "JD," he barked into his mike, "send a copy of Miles' cell audio to my PDA." Ryan holstered his hand gun, indicating that Chris should do the same. Then with a deep breath he turned to approach the compound gates, keeping his hands out to the sides to appear as non-threatening as possible. When he reached the gate he addressed Richard Karnack directly. "Sir, we have an emergency situation. Three of Miles' followers are currently hunting the Pritchard family on the northwest face of the valley."

"You're lying! You just want to get past our gates," shouted one of the younger men. Karnack remained silent waiting for Ryan to continue.

"I'm not lying," Ryan pulled up the cell call that JD had just sent to his PDA. "We intercepted this call as Miles was loading his people into their cars." Hitting the speaker button and maximizing the volume, Ryan let all of those around hear Miles coolly order John to execute those he was following, even the Pritchard children.

Henry Pritchard cursed even as he ran towards the barn to saddle up a horse. Doug, still maintaining his cover, and two other MARS members followed close on the heels of the confidential informant.

"There is no way to get to them before Miles' little hit squad does," Ryan calmly pointed out to Karnack, "but access to the roof of your meeting hall might enable one of my men to prevent a massacre."

Vin jogged up behind Chris and Ryan, his long sniper rifle still slung across his back. "These folks going to let me save those kids?" he asked.

Karnack didn't like or trust any government officials especially federal agents, but he did prefer to think he was a good judge of character. From the beginning he'd believed that Miles was nothing but a conniving snake and he certainly had not been wrong there. He was fairly certain that the agent before him could have justified charging the compound, guns blazing, during the recent confrontation they had no doubt heard. Instead he had waited for Miles' group of trouble makers to leave; apprehending them outside the MARS gates. Even now the main concern of the agents before him seemed to be the safety of the children. Karnack had recognized the voice of 'John' as John Gilbert which meant that the two with him were likely John's brother Luke and Miles' other lap dog Bob Hubert. It had been months since Karnack had last considered any of the men trust worthy, and any remnants of solidarity he may have felt had burnt away when he had listened to the recording of John agree to hunt down and murder children. The compound patriarch pulled open the gate and waved towards the hall. "Do what you need to."

Vin wasted no time moving to the edge to the building. Chris laced his finger together to give the sniper a needed boost, and then followed by levering himself up with a show of upper body strength that left many of the men half his age feeling inadequate. Vin stepped gracefully across the roof until he found the best spot to set up with his rifle. Checking through the scope he was relieved to see that Kirk and the family under his protection were still moving across the wide, steep clearing. Shifting the scope back towards the tree line he finally found the three shadowed shapes moving within the cover of the thinning forest. Noting their location and speed Vin estimated that he had about seventy-five seconds before they entered the clearing and he could attempt a shot. "Leader confirm. Am I cleared to use deadly force on suspects?"

Ryan appreciated Vin's insistence on clarification. Under most circumstances law enforcement was expected to provide warning to any suspects before they opened fired on them, but yelling across the valley for the suspects to surrender was not going to work. When the stakes were this high, extreme circumstances called for extreme answers. "Confirmed; do whatever it takes to protect the civilians." Now Ryan could only wait with the others to see how high the body count would go. Buck sidled up next to Team Eight's leader to report that Miles' entire caravan was in custody and had been read their rights. JD's voice whispered through his earpiece, updating Kirk on Vin's plan to fight their pursuer's fire with fire. Kirk answered back that he was trying to move Dana and the children towards the partial shelter of a rock outcropping, which would hopefully protect them from stray bullets and ricochets.

On the roof Vin had settled into position, his weapon ready. Chris was at his side providing moral support and second set of eyes through binoculars. Vin's internal timer was down to forty-seven seconds even as his view of the Pritchard children told him they were moving too slow.

Chris's frustrated hiss drew his eye and he knew exactly what his friend was thinking. _'Kirk and the Pritchards won't make it to cover before their attackers reach the clearing.'_

Vin stared back letting his determination be his reply, _'We'll find a way to keep them safe.'_

"Shoot," muttered Brett as he moved to join Ryan on the ground. "It's going to be even further than I thought. My read is putting the clearing at about 2450 meters."

Brett's tone alone told Ryan that things were not good. "How difficult will a shot at that distance be?"

Surprisingly it was the MARS leader Richard Karnack who explained, "The current record for a sniper successfully performing 'one shot - one kill' is 2430 meters and that was a stationary target. Add another 20 meters plus a moving target and your boy's chances of success are just about nonexistent."

Back in the surveillance van, once again beside JD, Blair could hear everything and was overwhelmed with the need to take action. He knew that with the right push Vin's capabilities would be more than enough to meet this challenge. "JD, can you connect me with Vin?"

"Yeah," JD made a few adjustments and handed Blair a spare headset. "Here you go."

"Vin," Blair began, "I need you to trust me and believe what I'm about to tell you." Had Jim been there he would have recognized the calm, commanding tone he privately referred to as Blair's Guide voice. "I know what you're about to do isn't going to be easy, but you can and will do it. It's what you were born to do. What you were trained for long before you became an army sniper or joined the ATF." Blair hoped the reference to the Tribal Guardian training Vin had received as a child on the reservation would put the sniper in the right frame of mind.

"I never finished," Vin protested even as he stared down the scope of his rifle, continuing to track the deadly shadows as they moved ever closer to the clearing. Just twenty-three seconds more.

"You'll finish it now," Blair insisted, leaving no room for argument. "Focus! It isn't enough to just see the clearing. Listen to the way the wind travels through the valley; a breeze in some areas a blow or an eddy in others. As a sniper you understand how those currents will affect your shots. Feel the surface beneath you, the air entering your lungs. Let your body slide into the rhythm that will best support your ability to pull the trigger on an exhale; within the space between heat beats. Scent the forest around you, the pines and the dirt; smell the sweat on your body, the oil on your gun and the powder in your bullets. Let these odors keep you anchored in the present. Now look at the clearing again and zoom in on our perps. See past the trees and bushes and shadows to the men themselves. See them and stop them!"

On another occasion Vin might have noted it strange that such a young voice would remind him so much of the old medicine man that had once taught him, yet he found Blair just as compelling as Grandfather had ever been. Each word commanded him, drawing the new Guardian into an increasingly pinpoint focus that utterly redefined the way he saw the world. With the last two words of Blair's address Vin lined up his shot only to have the image before him blur. Identifying the problem Vin quickly removed his sniper scope and aimed again with his Sentinel vision, while Chris fumbled in bewilderment with the scope that landed in his lap. "It was getting in the way," Vin offered gruffly as finally his prey entered his sights. "Targets acquired," Vin reported as he watched the three fanatics race into the clearing. All three did indeed have rifles but only the second was lifting his weapon to fire, aiming at Kirk's vulnerable back even as the agent desperately carried seven-year-old Kristy Pritchard to safety. "Firing!" The trigger was pulled and before the report of the rifle could reach the far side of the valley a body dropped, cut down by a .50 caliber bullet to the head.

Chris could barely believe what he was seeing through his binoculars. Vin had just made a world record shot without the aid of a scope and taken out one of the three-man hit squad. He almost couldn't restrain a cheer when he saw the third man in the group witness his buddy's demise turn tail and run back into the forest. "One down, one fleeing into the woods," Chris reported to the others. Shifting his binoculars he found the sole remaining assassin continuing forward on his murderous hunt. "Just one more shooter to deal with Vin," silence dominated in response. "Vin?" Glancing down Chris found his friend and fellow agent with his head lowered, trembling and shaking. "What's wrong?" Chris unintentionally caused a full body flinch when he reached out to set his hand on Vin's back.

"Too much," Vin's harsh whisper replied.

Chris was uncertain about what was happening to his friend but it too closely resembled Blair's accounts of 'Sentinel issues' not to be tied to his newly rediscovered abilities. Lowering his voice, he offered his best to help Vin rein in his overwhelmed senses. "Easy pard, just pull back a bit. Take a breath and try to find that place your head was at a moment ago." As he spoke Chris kept a light hand resting gently on Vin's shoulders, willing the younger man back into clarity.

Vin sucked into two harsh gasps and clung desperately to the sound of Chris's voice. When Vin had pulled the trigger he had known with absolute certainty that his bullet would find its target. What caught him by surprise were the deafening roar of his weapon and the brutal force of its violent kick, both easily five times more powerful as any previous occasion he'd used it. Immediately all of his senses began to fluctuate, leaving Vin to grapple with which of the sensations flooding him were real and which were exaggerated bits of misinformation. A distant corner of Vin's mind recognized this possibility. He remembered Grandfather telling him that for everything there had to be a balance. Once his abilities as a Guardian were fully realized they would bring with them great vulnerabilities he could not tackle alone. Yet even as pain seemed to swamp him through every sense, one thing offered soothing comfort. Vin latched on to Chris's voice, letting it anchor him to reality, knowing to the depths of his soul that, at this moment, only his Guide's voice would lead him back to sanity.

Studying Vin's reactions, Chris decided that the sniper's symptoms matched the descriptions of 'spikes' Blair had mentioned the night before. From the look of things, Vin was spiking on a massive scale. "You've cast your senses out too far and it's time to start reeling them back in," Chris murmured through instinct. "Start with sound. Turn it all down until nothing is louder than the sound of my voice." Vin's frame shuttered, but then started to relax, giving Chris hope that he was on the right track.

Distant gunfire had both men's heads snapping up. Snatching the binoculars, Chris zeroed in on the clearing. The lone remaining gun man had opened fire on his victims. Across the clearing a wounded Kirk shoved the youngest Pritchard daughter into the arms of her mother, who hid with her youngest son behind a group of boulders. Kirk turned back to fire his rifle while the two oldest Pritchard children half carried a limping younger brother. The rocks barely provided shelter while the last fanatical gunman continued to target the group; moving ever closer. Chris knew that agent Kirk Gustin was good at his job, but he could see the blood soaking the left flank of surveillance expert's shirt. With civilians in the line of fire and an assassin ready to martyr himself on the word of a megalomaniac 'prophet', Kirk was in an impossible position. Still Chris knew one person who could help. "Vin?"

"I see it," Vin hissed out between gritted teeth. Pain dominated his voice but overlaid upon that was a steely determination. Neither the Pritchards nor his fellow agent would come to further harm on his watch. "Acquiring second target."

Chris's hand slipped up to rest at the base of Vin's neck, while a steady stream of whispered confidence slipped from his lips, "Focus on the shooter, let all of the other distractions take a back seat. He needs to be stopped and you're our best chance at stopping him. Find your center and use it to . . ."

"Firing," Vin announced as he pulled the trigger. Across the valley a second man crumpled. It wasn't the perfect head shot that had struck his brother, but the gaping chest wound was just as effective at stopping his heart.

With the crisis passed Chris refocused on Vin, totally absorbed in easing his friend's discomfort. Though the sniper's head was once again down, his breathing seemed steady and the earlier shakes and sweats were absent. "Time to pull all of those senses back, Vin. Use my voice and my touch as a base and reel it all in." At the same time Chris's left hand gently removed the communication piece from Vin's ear before offering a pair of sunglasses. When Vin finally sat up, slipping the sunglasses on with a grateful nod, Chris queried, "How do you feel?"

"Headache, dry mouth, and sight and hearing seem stuck a bit high," Vin chuckled before continuing. "It's a bit like a hangover actually."

"So nothing you haven't suffered through before," Chris assessed. "Good, let's get your hung-over ass off this roof and see about helping with the mop up." Though Chris had removed Vin's ear piece, his own was filled with a renewed stream of chatter: JD placing an APB on Bob Hubert, the sole surviving gunman that had fled into the forest; Buck overseeing the transfer of Miles and his group of followers; Ezra and Lydia arriving to help the Pritchards and begin medical treatment on Kirk's wound; and Ryan relaying to the MARS members that Karl Colt, Kirk's undercover identity, had been injured and was being treated to stabilize him before he was moved, while the Pritchard family was exhausted but unharmed, aside from one sprained ankle. Fingering his own mike Chris asked, "Ryan, can we keep the distance Vin was shooting at out of the reports?"

Team Eight's leader glanced up at Chris as he helped the sniper off the roof. The fierce glare he leveled at anyone who strayed too near showed he was in full protection mode. While Ryan wasn't certain what Chris thought Vin needed protection from, after recent events he was more than willing to indulge the man. "Consider it done. Richard Karnack has generously agreed to give us access to the cabins used by Timothy Miles and his followers. Let's see if we can box up all of the evidence and get you and your son out of here by dinner."

Chris nodded in agreement even as his eyes sought out the man Ryan had just referenced. Blair was still outside the gates, helping Buck herd the last of the suspects into the back of a police van. Upon locking the doors Blair turned to meet his father's eyes.

Blair knew instinctively when his father sought him out; he immediately returned his father's attention with a smile and a quick thumbs-up. Part of him wanted to rush over and congratulate the new Guide, to tell him that he was in awe of how well Chris had handled Vin's first sense crisis. The words may not have been exactly what Blair would have chosen but they were obviously the ones that Vin needed to hear. Sadly, another part of Blair wanted to flee in terror. Vin was a Sentinel now and Blair could feel it like an errant electrical charge on his skin making every hair stand at attention. While it was Blair's bit of guided meditation that had brought Vin fully on line, flashbacks from the fountain crippled the faith he wanted to put in Vin. Blair felt a bit ashamed that despite all of the time that had passed he was still allowing Alex to affect how he interacted with other Sentinels. So he found a middle ground; keeping his distance from Vin while staying close enough to help Chris if needed.

Chris caught Blair looking at him again, not understanding the flicker that shadowed his eyes for a second, but appreciating the obvious pride Blair watched him with which brought an embarrassing surge of emotion swelling in his own chest. Yet it was bitter sweet; as memory whispered of another son that had once looked at him with similar pride.

"Looks like the Shaman figures you passed your first test as a Guide," Vin spoke from beside him.

Part of Chris wanted to disagree. He still had more than a few questions and doubts about this whole Guide thing. But in the end Vin was his friend; his brother in everything but blood. If Vin needed him then Chris was going to be there doing whatever it took to help him through. "The way I figure it, we both passed," he insisted bumping his Sentinel's shoulder. "Come on; let's get this bust wrapped up."


	3. Walking into trouble

**Author's Note:** Thank you to every one who has reviewed, put an alert on this story or added it to their favorites list. I appreciate knowing that you're enjoying the story and even the constructive critism is welcome.

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><p>"So what?" asked Blair as he stretched in the passenger seat beside Chris, "Aren't there any post-bust bonding rituals your team likes to engage in?" It was 9:43 pm and the sky was a dark blanket pierced with stars. The two had left the federal building a few minutes before and headed straight back to Chris's ranch. It wasn't that Blair minded leaving the office or spending time alone with his father. He was more than ready to be done with all of the post arrest incident reports; the collecting of evidence and the ever present bureaucratic paperwork. He was also ready to leave behind the claustrophobic feeling of being stuck in an enclosed office area with a Sentinel that wasn't his own. He'd tried to remain calm about the situation, but he was fairly sure that Vin and Chris had both pick up on the way he tensed whenever the young Sentinel wandered too close. He didn't think it was a coincidence that Vin had kept his distance all afternoon.<p>

Jim had called in the midst of the report filing to let Blair know he was finally finished up in Cascade and would be flying into Denver early the next morning, then driving a rental to Chris's place. It was the first chance Blair had to tell his Sentinel all that had transpired during the bust. Relieved to hear that Blair had come to no harm, Jim was still concerned to learn that Vin was apparently now a fully functioning guardian. The detective accepted that Chris was already filling the role of Vin's Guide, but still insisted that he wouldn't feel comfortable until he was at Blair's side and able to greet this new Sentinel himself. That Jim's thoughts and feelings so closely mirrored Blair's actually relaxed the young shaman quite a bit.

"Post bust bonding rituals?" repeated Chris with more than a bit of humor in his voice. "I suppose that's one way to describe drinks at the Saloon." Chris had noticed an ease in the tension carried on Blair's frame since they left the office. He knew his son's short description of his near death experience, _'after ten minutes of CPR the paramedics declared me dead and packed up their gear,'_ couldn't begin to cover the damage wrought by the unknown Sentinel. Blair's inability to trust Vin was apparent, but he was certain beyond doubt that Blair didn't want to surrender to that distrust. His son's doubts and misgivings had more to do with the Alex Barnes attack than anything Vin had done. Since he had no intention of giving up his relationship with either man, he had to help the two find a way to peacefully coexist. Vin seemed to be on the same page as Chris; cautiously approaching the team leader only when his son was somewhere else, insisting that even though he still had a bit of a headache he would be better off riding it out at Ezra's apartment. When Chris was inclined to protest Vin pointed out that Ezra's Jacuzzi, silk sheets and sound proofed walls were much more likely to relieve any ache or irritation than anything at Chris's ranch or even his own apartment.

Ezra's quick support of Vin's assertion told Chris that the sniper had already cleared the idea with their undercover coworker. Chris could admit to having mixed feelings about the situation. Usually if Vin or Ezra were injured or less than one hundred percent they stayed to recuperated at the ranch, but Blair's discomfort in Vin's presence eliminated that as a possibility. He appreciated the effort Vin was making to put his son at ease. The ATF leader was also glad to finally get a chance to be alone with his son for the first time since this morning. While he could certainly respect Blair's calm professional manner during the bust, he really wanted more time to relate to Blair without the distractions of the job getting in the way.

"So why aren't we heading to the Saloon with the rest of your team?" Blair's question forced Chris's musings back to the conversation at hand.

"Well the bust was really Kelly's not ours. Besides with Josiah and Nathan out of town and Vin still feeling a little off balance it didn't feel like the best idea. I think Buck and JD were going to head over with the rest of Team Eight and represent, but honestly I'd rather spend a quiet evening with you." Chris replied.

"Can I ask what you mean about Vin feeling a little off?" Blair almost instantly felt guilty that he hadn't asked after the new Sentinel earlier. He remembered how many problems Jim had when his senses had reasserted their place in his life. While Blair knew that Vin had received training as a child, unlike his partner, that didn't mean that it was acceptable for him to ignore the needs of a newly online guardian. "I probably should have asked how he was doing earlier," Blair admitted, "I just wasn't comfortable . . ." The Shaman-Guide trailed off at a loss to explain his uncustomary inaction. At least not without delving into topics he would rather not discuss.

"If I remember correctly, you got burned pretty badly by the last strange Sentinel that crossed your path," Chris began. "It's not surprising that you'd be a little gun shy."

"But it's not right," Blair insisted. "I shouldn't treat Vin differently than I treated Alex when I first met her. There was no distrust or fear. She needed help mastering her senses and I was eager to teach her, just like I'd taught Jim. And Vin is certainly nothing like Alex," he continued. "Did I tell you that I later found out that Alex came online while she was in prison; solitary confinement triggered her abilities." A grimace crossed his face as he thought about how he had avoided the young Sentinel. "Yet here I am acting like Vin is some sort of monster when clearly he's chosen the path of protecting others."

"Blair," Chris interrupted before his son could get too carried away. "You heard me tell Naomi that I was a POW?" Blair's nod allowed Chris to continue. "There wasn't anything pleasant about the experience, but for me the worst part was the little cages that they would shove us into if we caused trouble, got caught passing messages or sometimes just because they were bored. Trapped inside at the mercy of the heat and the insects; after a while your body would stop sweating because of dehydration and then the hallucinations would come." Chris paused to take a deep breath, consciously forcing his hands to ease their white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "Even after I managed to make it back home, it was years before I could enter a closet or a crawl space without breaking into a cold sweat."

Taking the opportunity presented by a red light Chris turned to face Blair. "You offered Alex Barnes your friendship and your wisdom hoping to help her. She repaid that kindness by using what you'd given her to take from others and if that wasn't enough of a betrayal, then she tried to kill you. The human mind isn't as different from the rest of the body as people like to think. You get hurt that badly and it's going to take a long time to heal, leaving more than a few scars." Refocusing towards the front windshield now that the light was green he continued, "I understand why you want to keep your distance from Vin, in fact he gets it too. He even mentioned something about it being bad manners for a Guardian to approach another's Guide without permission." The ATF agent shrugged. "If you'd rather have your partner here before you try to interact with Vin we're willing to wait. It's not like he's on death's door; he said he's had worse headaches after a night on the town."

"A minor headache doesn't sound too bad," agreed Blair happy to feel a bit of weight lift from his shoulders. "Wait a minute, bad manners to approach another's Guide, is that something he learned from his tribe?" The anthropologist in Blair eagerly leapt to the front.

"I don't have a clue," Chris chuckled at the sudden shift in gears. "And I would also like to point out that when it comes to the Sentinel – Guide stuff I barely qualify as a raw recruit. I don't suppose you've got a manual I could read?"

Blair snorted in spite of himself. "A how-to guide to Guiding . . . I wish. I hate to break it to you but I've been making it up as I go along for the last four years. It's not like it's easy to translate tribal lore into practical advice for the modern Sentinel." Thinking a little more seriously about his father's request Blair offered, "I've still got a copy of my dissertation. It should at least give you a point of reference to start from, but don't follow it too religiously. Probably the only useful thing I learned about Sentinels from the whole Alex fiasco is that what works for one Sentinel doesn't always work for another. I think that maybe Guiding a Sentinel is a bit like practicing medicine; more of an art than a science. The best advice I can suggest is buy a couple of notebooks and document everything: What he reacts to, what causes spikes or zones, which senses are the strongest and which he has the most control over. Have him practice using his senses regularly until it becomes second nature both so that he knows what he is capable of and so that he's comfortable with his abilities." Blair paused as he searched his pockets for a pen and paper. "I should be writing this stuff down for you," he murmured as much to himself as to Chris.

"I've got an idea," Chris suggested. "Let's stop at a little whole-in-the-wall I know. It's just a couple of miles from the ranch and a lot quieter than the Saloon. We can grab a couple of beers and do a little of that post-bust bonding ritual you mentioned, while you write up your lists." He was intrigued by the way his son slipped into anthropologist mode, ready with ideas and suggestions. Truthfully, every time Blair revealed a piece of himself his father was interested. The more Blair shared with him the more Chris wanted to know.

Concerned that he'd irritated or more likely bored the ATF agent by falling into a lecture, Blair agreed, "Beers sound great. I didn't mean to sound like I was some stuffy professor telling you what to do."

"Relax Blair," Chris insisted. His grin quickly erased the younger man's fears. "I'm the one who asked for a manual. I just didn't expect you to start writing it on the spot. Let's stop at Digger Dan's. You can start working on that manual, I can have some of Dan's famous potato soup and we can both enjoy a couple of beers."

Once again surprised by how accepting Chris was of everything he did, Blair took a deep breath and nodded, "I think I'd like that. I might even try some of that potato soup too."

It took another twenty minutes of driving to reach the bar, but they filled the time with talk of past busts and other investigations. Blair wanted to wait until they were both sitting in a comfortable setting to begin discussing the things Chris would need to know to Guide his Sentinel. Chris pulled off the road into a gravel parking lot. Digger Dan's was a one story building decorated with just a couple of neon lights. A small bar that catered to the areas ranchers, it was somewhat run down in appearance and not hip enough to draw in most passing tourists, yet thanks to a dedicated cook it boasted a menu better than anything to be found at the nearby tourist traps.

"By the time we brought our suspect in for questioning we already had so much evidence regarding his attempts to make a homemade rocket launcher that he confessed in less than an hour," Chris wrapped up the case story he'd been telling. "I only wish that more of our investigations were closed so easy."

"So what about the rocket launcher that you took into evidence?" Blair asked, turning to face his father and walking backwards in the process. "Did it actually work?"

"A little too well," admitted Chris. "It carried its payload on-target up to a distance of three-fourths of a mile. If he'd gotten the explosives he'd wanted it would have seriously damaged the factory he was planning to target and likely hurt a lot of innocent people inside."

"I get being frustrated that the factory wasn't negotiating with the union," said Blair as he remembered the many times his Mom had helped workers organize to get better working conditions and benefits, "but that doesn't justify his actions. I mean, seriously, how was launching a bunch of rockets into the factory going to help anyone keep their jobs?"

"During his interrogation he explained it as a way of making sure the management never hired scabs again," related Chris. "I don't think he put much thought into the fact that if he destroyed the factory his friends in the union wouldn't have any place to work."

Turning forward again towards the bar's entrance Blair asked, "Have you got any recommendations beyond the potato soup? I'm suddenly very hungry."

"They've got some tasty garlic butter chicken wings," suggested the elder, "and their beef brisket is pretty good too."

Grabbing the handle to pull open the door Blair admitted, "The garlic butter chicken wings sound too good to pass up. Maybe we can," Blair's idea suddenly fluttered away as a double barreled shotgun swung in his direction, its business end pointed directly at Blair's face. "Crap!" The detective's eyes darted around the dim interior; past the sneering thug holding a rifle on him; over the tense civilians scattered through the room. A couple in their thirties; the husband wearing an army jacket, two women in their twenties seated at the bar while a third female stood beside them, two male employees stood on the other side of the polished wood keeping as far as possible from the robbers, and finally an older Asian couple; all with their hands raised in surrender. His gaze held for a second on his assailant's partner who was cleaning out the cash register and then moved to Chris, hoping against hope that his father understood the 'play along' message he tried to send with his eyes. "Please man, don't kill me," begged Blair making his voice weak and tossing in a shudder for good measure. "I'm too young to die," he insisted, stepping to the side in an attempt to draw his assailant's continued attention and hopefully give Chris the freedom to act when the time was right.

For his part Chris did not like his son's plan at all. In fact it took every ounce of will he possessed to refrain from throwing himself between Blair and that gun. It didn't matter that Blair was a grown man and a trained police officer in his own right. It didn't matter that Blair had a reputation for diffusing hostage situations. That shotgun wasn't pointed at the head of some stranger it was aimed at his son. For several seconds after stepping through the door the lone sound Chris could hear was the voice within his head; screaming loud enough to rattle his skull, _'Do something! Do something now! You can't lose him too. He's your son; it's your job to protect him. It doesn't matter what it takes or how high the cost is, you can't fail Blair the way you failed Adam. You won't survive the loss of another child. Do something now!'_ Only the control drilled into him by a dozen years spent as a Navy SEAL allowed him to maintain his stance in the doorway and wait for an opening.

Thankfully the stickup man aiming the rifle was too busy sneering at Blair to notice Chris's stiff stance. "What kind of pathetic hippy reject are you?" the thug taunted. "You better empty your wallet fast before I shoot you on principal."

The second thief, who had finished emptying the cash drawer and swiped a bottle of top shelf whisky, moved to stand beside his friend with the shotgun and assess their newest victim. "You might not get any money out of the loser, but I bet he's got some weed on him."

Blair was both pleased and terrified to be the sole focus of both criminals' attention. Pleased because, hey that was his plan; draw attention away from Chris and give his father a chance to do one of those special forces takedowns Navy SEALs were supposed to be so good at. What's more his plan was working! These idiots were completely ignoring Chris even as he slipped behind the taller of the two. Yet even watching his plan successfully unfold didn't relieve the terror, because let's face it; if you weren't terrified when someone was aiming a fully loaded shotgun at your face from barely eighteen inches away, then there was something very wrong with you. The trick was to make sure your fear (or terror as the case may be) didn't dictate your actions; for Blair that meant keeping up his little performance by playing up to preconceptions of the two gun toting robbers before him.

Letting a tremor shake booth of his hands, Blair fearfully backed up a step while patting ineffectually at his pockets. Both of his assailants stepped forward to counter his retreat leaving their backs completely exposed to Chris. Blair knew that the only reason his father hadn't already taken the offensive was the damned gun still pointing his way. Hoping to lead his adversaries into a mistake, Blair began to stammer, "Wallet? I'm sure I've got it here somewhere. Not that there's a lot in it but sharing is good karma right?" he pushed his voice up into the near squeaking range of confused panic. "I don't actually have any joints on me. I don't like to have them in the car. I mean, sure they say they pulled you over for speeding or a busted tail light, but it always ends up with a field sobriety test and a search and I just can't afford . . ."

"Did I ask for your life story?" demanded the guy with the shotgun as he grabbed Blair's coat collar and dragged him forward. If the thug had been asked he would have freely admitted that he enjoyed watching others cower before him.

He was sorely disappointed when instead of continued panic Blair met him with a satisfied smirk. Now that the rifle had finally moved out of Blair's face, his father was free to act. Not four feet away Chris had already launched into action ensnaring his opponent with an unrelenting sleeper hold and drawing the attention of the second crook, allowing Blair to act as well. The agent silently counted the seconds to his prisoner's loss of consciousness while his eyes tracked Blair's take down of the other man. The detective easily disarmed his adversary since one hand held the rifle pointing towards the ceiling and the other remained entangled in Blair's jacket. Getting him to the ground in a belly-down submission hold took a bit more effort, but despite his creative cursing the stick up man soon had his arms pinned with wrists crossed behind his back and Blair's knee weighing him down for good measure.

Glancing up Blair saw Chris's now unconscious perpetrator was in a similar position on the floor where the agent was searching him for weapons. Chris offered Blair a pair of zip ties in lieu of cuffs and stood to gather all of the weapons. An excited murmur had broken out among the civilians in the grill, but they remained surprisingly quiet.

"Larabee, you don't know how glad I am that you decided to stop by tonight, but there's still one more scumbag in the back," warned the bartender in a hushed tone. "The guy in charge took a fancy to Blossom and dragged her off for privacy just before you walked in."

Chris gave a jerky nod of understanding while his jaw settled into a grim line. Grabbing up the rifle he turned back to the customer in the Army coat. "Sergeant, would you be willing to keep an eye on these two while Blair and I apprehend the third suspect? Feel free to shoot them if they do something stupid like; try to escape."

"Happily," replied the six foot plus veteran accepting the weapon and then shifting to cover both detainees. A few feet away the bartender was already talking to the 911 dispatcher.

His prisoner properly secured, Blair was moving to join his father near the back of the bar when his prisoner felt the need to speak up.

"You can't let him shoot me," the thief practically growled. "You're cops! There are laws against that."

Blair kept moving towards the senior agent even as he replied in a scathing tone. "We may be cops, but he's a soldier; trained to kill any enemy that attacks him or his allies, and news flash moron: right now you are the enemy! So I suggest you shut up and pray for mercy." A small part of Blair's mind was surprised at his harsh tone. There was no doubt that Naomi would be having a hissy fit if she heard him talking like that. The cop's training insisted that overwhelming force was the best way to avoid continued violence, while the enlightened part of Blair could admit that he wanted the prisoner to feel a bit of the terror that had swamped Blair when he had walked face first into that shotgun. Silently taking position behind Chris and hearing a muffled scream brought clarity to the fact that somewhere nearby a woman was being brutally attacked. Blair decided that he had little tolerance and even less good will for the men who would commit such crimes.

Chris waited until Blair met his eyes. "Ready?" he asked in a hushed tone. Part of him couldn't help but take a moment to study his son and verify that Blair was unharmed. His son answered him with a swift, silent nod, but Chris saw the conflict in his eyes. The adrenalin fueled fear, anger and frustration reined in by a blanket of resolve. "I'll sweep left and you take right." His brief instructions were met with another firm nod.

Then words became a hindrance because Chris pushed through the swinging door to the back rooms. Stand up refrigerators lined the right side of the hallway, the glass doors showing off the supply of soda, beer and other refreshments. The first opening to the left led to the small but organized kitchen, at least one fryer still bubbling away despite the absence of a cook. The agent took a moment to verify that there was nothing more than food supplies hiding behind the counter before continuing down the hall. The small room on the left was really more of a glorified closet its shelves stuffed with the odds and ends a small restaurant needed.

By now the defiant cries of Blossom and the cruel taunts of her attacker were easy to make out. The laughing assertion, "I enjoy a girl with spirit, but you fight me too hard and I'm going to have to break that spirit of yours," had Blair's stomach turning with nausea. Chris peeked through the partially open door before signaling that he'd be entering the office first.

"You'd best kill me," answered a wounded yet strong Blossom, "Cause if you don't I'll make sure you sing soprano for the rest of your life!" Blair didn't know Blossom but her bravado was already winning his respect.

The last perp. continued his mocking laughter while Chris and Blair eased silently into the room, "Yeah, you and what army, bitch?" The burly figure ignored Blossom's ineffective slaps and scratches. Pinning her down on the office couch by her neck with one hand while the other groped a breast and then slid down to jerk her skirt and panties off her hips.

"How about the army with the guns aimed at the back of your head," Chris spoke up for the first time since entering the room. The way the aggressor froze in shock and fear might have been funny under any other circumstances. "Move away from the lady nice and slow."

The stumbling rise betrayed the criminal's confusion at his sudden reversal of fortune. Blossom recovered much more quickly. Not even bothering to pull together the tattered bits of her ripped blouse she rose to grab her assailant's shoulders and deliver a well placed knee to his groin. Blair moved to pull her away from the criminal and any potential retribution, but Blossom clearly knew how to hit a man where it hurts, because the would-be rapist was too busy cupping his hand over his family jewels to retaliate.

Showing absolutely no sympathy for the sexual deviant, Chris forced the man to his knees with a brisk, "Zip up those pants and then lace your fingers together behind your head." Once the moaning assailant turned victim complied, the agent secured his hands behind his back with the last zip tie. He made a quick mental note to restock his zip ties and urged the prisoner to his feet. A quick glance towards Blair confirmed that the detective had the waitress calmed down, so he directed the last criminal towards the front of the bar and grill. "On your knees with your friends," Chris ordered before turning to Sergeant Hillstrom. "Did they cause any problems?"

"Sadly, not a one," reported the Afghanistan veteran. "How is Blossom?"

The eyes of every civilian locked on Chris waiting to hear his reply, and in the silence he could just barely make out the approaching sirens of the local police contingent. "She's a bit bruised and shaken, but nothing she can't survive." Though he tended towards taciturn in nature; he wasn't trying to be abrupt with the group. He strongly felt that only Blossom should decide who and what to tell about the sexual assault she'd just experienced. He frowned as he remembered something that Blair would be unlikely to be able to help with. "Her blouse was torn up. Is there any chance we can find something for her to change into?" he asked the group at large.

"Hey, I've got an idea," offered the cook. "It's a promotional sweatshirt," he explained as he looked questioningly at the bartender who was still conferring with the 911 dispatcher. The bar man's nod led to the cook pulling a blue top out of plastic wrapping. Then he hesitated, "Should I take it back to her?" Chris recognized his concern. After being attacked by one man Blossom might not like being surprised by another.

"I could take it back to her," suggested the Sergeant's wife, "see if she needs any help." Noting that despite the circumstances the lady seemed almost as cool and collected as her husband, Chris nodded his agreement. The cook eagerly handed over the sweatshirt over and directed her down the hall to the last door on the right.

Outside the first two patrol cars swung into the parking lot, blue and red lights slicing through the darkness. Chris moved to the door and readied his badge. He had heard the bartender update the dispatcher that the criminals had been apprehended by off duty law enforcement, but he also knew that the Sheriff's deputies would likely want to confirm who he was. Chris recognized with surprise the first man through the door as Sheriff Tater. A quick exchange of greetings was immediately followed by a rundown of the situation. "Myself and Detective Sandburg walked in on an apparent robbery. We subdued the first two suspects," he motioned to the men sitting on the floor, "learned a third had forced a waitress to the back office in a rape attempt. We were able to prevent the rape but she was injured and shaken. Detective Sandburg and another woman are with her now."

"It's never boring when you're involved with a call, Larabee," assessed Tater. Noting a truck and another car both wearing department logos arrive he turned to his deputy. Have Billock and Danvers transport these three to county lock up, and then get started on taking witness statements from these folks. I'll check on the waitress."

* * *

><p>In the back office Blossom had graduated from rage to tears once her attacker was gone. "You probably think it's silly for me to be crying now that I'm actually safe."<p>

"Blossom, there is no wrong way to feel after you've been attacked. It was a traumatic experience and it's going to take a while for you to regain your emotional equilibrium," Blair assured.

"Do you think he-they'll get sent to prison for a long time?" she asked.

"That depends on a lot of factors," admitted Blair. "Armed robbery is nothing to sneeze at, but if you're worried about your attacker in particular, agreeing to testify that he tried to rape you would likely ensure that he gets a longer sentence." The detective tried to gage how receptive the pale young woman was to his information. The idea of filing a formal complaint or testifying often caused victims to withdraw. Some even refused to speak of what happened. But the way Blossom had fought her attacker both physically and verbally let him hope that she wouldn't alowl fear or misplaced shame choose for her. "Do you think you could do something like that?"

"If it means that creep spends more time in jail where he can't hurt people, yeah I could testify," Blossom replied solemnly.

A gentle knock on the door drew their attention. "Hi, my name is Dawn," introduced the thirty-something blonde that Blair vaguely recognized from one of the tables. "It was suggested that a change of clothes might be needed." She held up the blue, extra large sweatshirt emblazoned with the words, 'Digger Dan's: Home of the World's Best Potato Soup!'

"Lord yes!" Blossom's reply was a prayer of thanksgiving that she wouldn't be seen by anyone else clutching the shredded remains of her once favorite blouse. The top would be far too big for her but at least she would be covered.

"Actually, if you're sure about pressing charges, I'd like to take your torn top as evidence," Blair explained, "It would also be a good idea to take your statement while everything is still fresh in your mind, as well as document any injuries. I think I heard some police arrive. Would you like me to see if there is a female officer to handle your interview?"

"Maybe," answered Blossom, "but if there isn't, could you be the one to question me? I'd kind of like to do it now and get it all over with."

"This isn't my jurisdiction," Blair admitted, "but let's see what we can do. Dawn would you mind staying with Blossom for a moment?" Dawn agreed with a nod, taking the vacant office chair and rolling it closer to the young waitress. Pleased with the way Blossom seemed to relax even more in the other woman's presence he went to see about getting the interview started as quick as possible. In the hallway Blair met Sheriff Tater who informed him the department's lone female officer was on vacation visiting family in Ohio. He was willing to let Blair conduct the interview since Blossom was already comfortable with him, but he insisted on being present to witness the evidence gathering per department regulations.

Entering the office with Tater behind, Blair was glad to note some color returning to Blossom's face. "Blossom, I think you might already know Sheriff Tater."

"He's on my dad's bowling team," Blossom revealed, "and he swung by a couple times to handle the rougher crowds when the rodeo came through."

Blair smiled to hear the girl speak with increasing confidence. "He's willing to let me be the one to question you, but he needs to be here too. It's mostly a procedure thing to make sure I don't miss any steps Colorado law requires. Would that be okay with you?" Blair could see the tensing of her body even as he asked the question.

Apparently the Sheriff noticed it too. "If you're feeling a bit crowded miss, I could watch from out in the hall."

Blossom let out a shaky sigh, "Thank you, I'd appreciate that. Is it okay if Dawn stays too? I'd kind of like to have another woman here."

"I'll stay as long as you need me," Dawn was quick to reassure.

Tater seemed to have no objections so Blair accepted an evidence kit complete with digital camera from the Sheriff, relieved that none of the law enforcement rivalry he often ran into was present tonight. Tater was clearly making Blossom's wellbeing the priority and Blair intended to do the same. "How about we start by taking your top into evidence?" Blair pulled one of the larger evidence bags from the kit.

Blossom slipped the purple mess from her shoulders, but hesitated to hand it over as tears gathered in her eyes. "I'm being silly again," she admitted. "It's just that I got this from my Aunt Rachael when she was visiting Greece." A tear slid down her cheek as she extended the fabric to Blair. "It was one of my favorite shirts."

"Remember what I said before," insisted Blair, "you're allowed to be upset right now. How about we start with your hands? I know you were trying to fight your attacker. Did you get a chance to scratch him?"

"Yep, I even broke a nail," Blossom held up the jagged claw like a badge of honor and Blair quickly but gently scraped beneath her nails gathering the assailant's skin and blood in the process.

"I'd like to photograph your injuries next," Blair explained. As he photographed her hands, bruised arms and cheek, and split lip he talked her through everything he was doing trying to give her as much control over the process as possible.

"I think you'll need to photograph her back too," Dawn spoke up for the first time in several minutes.

Shifting for a better view, Blair winced at the already vivid mark across her shoulder blades, "Ouch. Is it okay if I move your left bra strap to get a better picture?" When Blossom just nodded, he moved the strap aside and snapped several photos of the nasty bruise. He had no doubt it would transition through several colors of the rainbow over the next days and weeks. "You can put the sweat shirt on now." Blair put away the camera and pulled out an audio recorder, pen and paper. "Before we start discussing the events of this evening I wanted to go over a few things. First Blossom, I'd like to record your statement so we can have the most accurate reference of your account possible. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure, that makes sense," said Blossom.

"Secondly, you mentioned preferring Dawn's presence. Do you want her to stay while we begin questioning?" inquired Blair.

"Yes. I mean, if that's allowed," answered Blossom. Her hand clasped Dawn's for reassurance.

Blair check with Sheriff Tater in the hall who nodded his consent. "Dawn, it's very important that you don't answer or add your own memories to Blossom's while I'm questioning her. In fact I'm going to ask that you do your best to _not_ react to anything she says during her statement. Will you be able to do that?"

"Yes," Dawn replied without hesitation. "It's been a few years but I volunteered at the rape crisis center back in college. I understand what kind of things I'm likely to hear, and how important it is for you to get a clean statement."

"Great. Let's get started then," instructed Blair.

Often the most extraordinary or terrifying event can seem to last for hours when in reality they pass in moments, sometimes even seconds. Blossoms tale of near rape took less than twenty-five minutes to tell and probably occurred in less than three. Blair had her go over her story twice clarifying the order of events, from the moment she had been dragged to the back office until Chris and Blair arrived; giving Blossom the opportunity to knee her attacker in the nuts. Neither Dawn nor Tater could completely hide the grins brought on by that bit of poetic justice. Tater spoke up once to clarify exactly where Blossom had scratched her assailant, but otherwise seemed satisfied with Blair's handling of the interview.

Once Blossom's statement was done Tater took over Dawn's questioning. Blair left the neatly labeled evidence he had gathered with the sheriff, and headed back towards the main restaurant. He was surprised to see the cook back in the kitchen. When the man noticed Blair he urged, "Go grab a chair at one of the open tables. I'll have the soup out to you in a moment."

In the bar and dining area a single line of police tape divided the space into two sections. One side held the entrance where Blair and his father had been accosted, the now empty cash register, and a deputy on a ladder collecting shotgun fragments from the ceiling. On the other side of the tape were most of the tables and chairs as well as half of the bar. Two other deputies were speaking with some of the former hostages most likely finishing their statements. The three criminals that they had apprehended were gone, on their way to county lock up, wherever that was. Chris was at the far end of the bar filling out what looked to be a witness report while nibbling on chicken wings. Blair ducked under the tape leaving the active crime scene to join his father. He had barely sat down before the ATF agent pushed a witness report; pen on top and a tall glass of iced tea, in his direction. The smell of buttery garlic chicken reminded Blair that he hadn't eaten in far, far too long. There was no hesitation when Blair snatched one of the wings off of Chris's plate.

Chris didn't bother to look up from his writing as he noted, "I've shot men for less. You're lucky you're my son."

"No way," Blair bantered back. "I'm too adorable to shoot. Besides, you like me." He reached over to snatch another wing only to frown when Chris deftly slid the plate out of reach.

"You say that like I haven't shot people I like before," was Chris's dry response. "Get your paperwork done so we can switch from iced tea to whiskey."

Seeing no reason to argue with that idea Blair began filling out the form getting as far as describing how he had disarmed his bad guy when the cook, Blair noted his name was Billy, brought a steaming bowl of potato soup over. "Thanks a lot, Billy. You have no idea how hungry I am." He blew on the stew for just a second before scooping it into his mouth. The rich, spicy flavor explosion had him piling three more bites in before he stopped to take a breath. "This is awesome! I'm so glad you kept the kitchen open, though I a bit surprised the deputies let you."

"It helps when two of those deputies are my nephews," explained the bartender as he walked over to join the conversation. "They had a bunch of rules about civilians staying out of their crime scene, but since the first two never went further than the cash drawer and the third only went to my office there was no reason to shut down the kitchen. Besides, Papaw always said that nothing could make strangers brothers like facing death together. I figure, after tonight every person here is family and I don't send family away with empty stomachs."

"My stomach thanks you," said Blair. He took five more bites before returning to his report. Twenty minutes or so passed as the civilians caught up in the robbery finished talking with the deputies. The bartender, and proprietor as Blair learned, invited all to stay for a free meal to celebrate their survival of the crisis with relatively little harm. Blossom and Dawn, escorted by Sheriff Tater, were welcomed with eager greetings and gentle hugs from Blossom's coworkers and Dawn's husband.

Tater collected the reports from Chris and Blair, reading them over to verify that nothing had been missed. He also checked with each of his deputies to make sure that all of the witnesses had been interviewed, evidence collected and documented, and every procedure followed. Finally he pulled down the police tape and told Dan that the place was his again. By then Dan and Billy had pushed several tables together and were bringing out several trays heavy with food and drink. Joining everyone else at the tables Blair got his first real opportunity to examine the other people caught up in the night's excitement.

The staff of Digger Dan's included Dan who in his current duties as bartender was making sure everyone had the beverage, be it soda, whisky or beer, of their choice. Billy was distributing serving bowls of chicken wings, barbequed pulled pork, beef brisket, green beans, corn, potato soup, corn bread and salad. A waitress named Sally helped Billy bring out more food even as she insisted that Blossom sit down, relax, and let others take care of her for now.

The customers besides Chris and Blair included Dawn and her husband Sergeant Hillstrom whose first name was Mike. An Asian couple introduced themselves as George and Li Ming. Two women, Beth and Susan rounded out the group.

As those gathered finished filling their plates with the food of their choice, Dan at the head of the table raised a glass, "If you don't mind letting an old man talk for a bit I'd like to say a few things." Once those around the table had quieted he continued, "First, I'd like to offer a prayer of thanksgiving that none of us were shot by those three idiots that barged in firing off their guns. It could have been a massacre but somehow miraculously not one of us was hit. So in the name of all that is holy we offer up our thanks." A chorus of murmured 'amen's and at least one 'thank you lord' followed his words. "Second, I like to propose a toast to the two men who pulled our collective butts out of the fire and rescued Blossom before more harm could be done. I don't know what luck brought you to our door, but never have I been so happy to see a couple of off duty cops. So let's raise a toast to the men who took the risks even when they didn't have to and saved us all in the process. To our heroes!"

Blair returned the toast with his most gracious smile and enjoyed a sip of his promised whiskey. "I'm always happy to help . . . especially when food and drink are the reward," he joked.

Chris however looked chagrined. "There is taking risks and then there is being foolhardy. I know you deliberately drew their attention away from me when we walked in," he confronted Blair.

"Well yeah, better me than you," Blair was quick to respond, "And before you get yourself worked up into an over protective, fatherly snit you need to examine some facts. First off no one looks at me and assumes I'm a cop." He turn to the rest of the table to seek their confirmation, "Seriously, did any of you look at me when I walk in during the robbery and guess that I was a police detective, or involved with law enforcement in any way?"

Most of the group shook their heads no. The Sergeant went so far as to admit, "I figured you for some long lost hippy."

"That would be my Mom actually, but you just proved my point," Blair clarified. "Most people make initial judgments based on appearance. Because of how I choose to present myself many people underestimate me. Which is fine, it's how I prefer it actually," he confessed before turning back to his father. "But you Dad, whether you like it or not, most people look at you and decide pretty quick that you are not someone to be tangled with, and rightly so. When I saw those creeps with their guns I knew things would go bad fast if they got a good look at you."

"Wait a second. You were protecting me?" frustration spilled into Chris's voice. "Fathers are supposed to protect their sons, not the other way around."

"But in this case protecting you was protecting me," Blair insisted. "What good would it have done anyone if they had seen you, recognized you for the bad ass that you are, and shot you on the spot to prove that they were even bigger bad asses? Besides while I consider myself a good cop, you're the one with years of Special Forces close-quarters combat training. For everyone's sakes we needed their eyes on me so that you could slip behind and do your thing," he concluded. "It all worked out in the end."

"Doesn't mean I have to like how it happened," Chris persisted.

"It is the burden of Fathers," George Ming volunteered on Chris's side, "to always worry about their sons. I would feel the same in your father's place."

"But I'm a grown man," asserted Blair, "A fully trained and qualified law enforcement officer." Trying to lighten the mood he added, "I'm also too old for you to ground me if you don't like how I'm doing things."

"Would you prefer I give you a spanking?" countered Chris.

Accepting the very real possibility that his father could and would follow through if Blair kept antagonizing him, he decided a bit of a retreat was in order. "No, let's avoid that humiliation. I promise that I will be more cautious in the future."

"All right then." Chris accepted Blair's vow and dug back into his beef brisket with gusto. Something inside Blair wondered if getting that promise of caution hadn't been his father's goal all along.

After a couple of minutes of eating Dan spoke up again. "I've known you for more than a few years now Larabee, so I can't help but wonder why I've never heard you talk about this son of yours." No one would ever accuse 'Digger' of tact or subtlety.

Chris raised a brow towards Blair who shrugged 'why not' in response. "That's because I didn't know Blair existed until yesterday."

That drew several surprised exclamations, but Chris remained silent until Dan demanded, "Well how the hell did that happen?"

Considering his answer Chris explained, "Blair's mother was my high school sweetheart. After joining the Navy, I was captured and declared killed in action. By the time I made it back home some two years later, Naomi and her family had moved out of town and I couldn't seem to track them down."

"But what about you Blair?" asked Blossom, "Didn't you ever try to find out more about your father or his family?"

"I think I mentioned earlier that mom was a hippy. Well she got this idea that if I knew about how dad had died as a soldier, I might try to emulate him and end up just as dead. So instead she told me that she didn't know who my father was," Blair replied, then adding, "And yes, I am still mad at her about that."

"Parents aren't always rational regarding their fears for their children," Chris offered in a mild defense of Naomi.

"But if Naomi thought Chris was dead, Chris didn't know Blair existed and Blair didn't know his father's name then how did you two meet?" Blossom asked.

"Serendipity," Blair offered, "I was meeting Mom at Denver International during a layover. Chris walked through with his coworkers and suddenly she jumped up and started kissing him. After she introduced us Chris asked if I'd be willing to stay in town for a couple of days to get to know each other, and here we are."

"That sounds like more than coincidence to me," suggested George. "My father would say that the ancestors knew you needed each other and arranged for you to meet."

"I think I like the sound of that," said Blair, the anthropologist within him happy to welcome different thought traditions.

"Sounds like Grammy Gibson," Chris snorted. When Blair looked eager to hear more he elaborated, "Grammy was my mother's mother. She always said there was nothing more important than family and I know of at least two different occasions when she arranged for estranged family members to meet 'accidently' so they could work out their problems. If any of my ancestors were involved with our meeting then Grammy was likely the ring leader."

"Sound like quite a character," said Blair wistfully, "I'd like to hear more about her."

"I can handle that," assured Chris. They filled the next hour with tales of long absent family and friends while everyone enjoyed the feast.

TBC


	4. The big meet and greet

The harsh sounds of his 'Working for a Living' ringtone let Blair know that it was Captain Simon Banks interrupting his sound sleep. Shoving back the covers, Blair thought he caught a hint of coffee in the air and guessed that Chris was already up and about. Flipping the cell open Blair asked, "To what do I owe this vacation day wakeup call?"

"Maybe if you, oh I don't know, stopped working freelance on your time off I wouldn't have to call you to find out what the hell is going on," came Simon's frustrated reply. "I didn't have a problem with you helping out the ATF when they were short on manpower. But what's this I hear from a Sheriff Tater about you taking on three armed suspects? Are you trying to give me grey hair? Do you have any idea how freaked out Jim is going to be when he hears about this?"

"So he doesn't know about the hold up yet?" Blair sought to confirm. He had realized he would get some flak from others for his part in last night's arrests. Over the years his reputation for stumbling into trouble had grown to legendary status. The number of people who bet on what kind of danger he and Jim would find next had to be the most poorly kept secret at the station. Blair never threw a stink about it because he knew all of the proceeds went to the 'Victims of Violent Crimes' fund; all the winners just got were the pizza of their choice from Stromboli's and bragging rights. He also knew how over protective Jim could get, especially now when he was already tense about the Sentinel situation. He wanted to tell Jim about last night's little adventure in person, not have him hear about it from someone else second hand.

"I didn't hear from Sheriff Tater until after I'd dropped Jim at the airport this morning," explained Simon. "I'm happy to let you explain to your partner why you felt the need to take on every criminal in the Denver area without him."

"That so wasn't my fault," Blair insisted. "Chris and I just stopped for a late supper since we'd skipped eating to finish up the paperwork on the Timothy Miles bust. Anyone could have walked in on that holdup."

"You might be right, but once again it wasn't anyone; it was _you_," countered Simon. "Sheriff Tater was a good sport about the situation, said you handled yourself well and he was just calling to notify me as a professional courtesy. But I can't stress enough how much I'd like to make it through the rest of the week without anymore 'professional courtesy' calls."

"My only plans for the moment are to go to the kitchen for breakfast and wait for Jim to arrive," assured Blair. "Nothing that's likely to cause trial or tribulation."

"Are you trying to jinx yourself?" demanded Simon. "Stay out of trouble. That's an order!" The call clicked to an end before Blair could reply.

Blair set his cell down and stretched before grabbing his jeans and pulling them on. He swapped his night shirt for something clean and tugged on a pair of socks. Remembering that Jim had promised to give him a call when his plane landed, Blair retrieved his cell to tuck it in his front pocket. He followed the scent of coffee to the kitchen area and found Chris working on the beginnings of breakfast.

"I was thinking omelets," Chris offered when he noticed his son's arrival. "How does ham, green onions, spinach, and provolone sound to you?"

"That sounds awesome," Blair replied. "How can I help?"

"Cut the ham and onions while I prep the spinach," his father instructed. They worked side by side for a couple of minutes until Blair presented his meat and vegetables for Chris to add to the eggs. "I heard you arguing on the phone. Is there anything I need to worry about?" While the words were spoken lightly, almost hesitantly, Blair could hear the concern that drove his father to say them.

"I was just defending myself to my boss back in Cascade," explained Blair. "He's not really upset. Believe it or not that was his quiet voice. He was just worried about me, how did he put it? 'Taking on every criminal in the Denver area by myself.'"

"Not completely by yourself," Chris pointed out. "But I can understand where he is coming from. It's bad enough when you have to send others into harm's way as part of the job. It really catches you off guard when they're thrown into danger just going about their ordinary lives." Chris shook his head. "It's happened to people on my crew more than once and I have never liked it."

"Truthfully, dealing with Simon was easy," confided Blair. "I'm more worried about how Jim is going to react. He's already on edge knowing that Vin is a Sentinel. Hearing that I had a close call last night is likely to send him into overprotective overdrive. In Jim's case it's a bit like being smothered by a mother hen on steroids."

Chuckling, Chris moved the omelets to plates, adding a couple of slices of bacon to each, and motioned to the table. It wasn't until then that Blair noticed a note pad, printouts and laptop already on the table. With all of the chaos of the evening before they had never had a chance to discuss what being Vin's Guide might mean for Chris, but it was clear that it had been on his father's mind from the moment he'd woken up. He even had the notes that Blair had scribbled while in the truck. Seeing Blair's focus, Chris suggested, "Let's finish eating first, then you can start the Guide lessons."

"Sure thing," agreed Blair. The omelets were tasty and filling and when combined with Chris's strong coffee more than enough to clear the morning fog from Blair's mind. He insisted on clearing the dishes from the table since Chris had cooked breakfast. A second cup of coffee, this one with a bit more cream, accompanied him back to the table.

"Okay," started Blair, "How to work with a Sentinel 101. First thing you're going to want to do is get a baseline by testing all of Vin's senses and their limits. Jim hated this part and Vin might not like it much either, but both you and he need to know what he's capable of doing, especially if you want to continue using those abilities in the field. That's not going to happen without testing." He wrote 'SIGHT' at the top of his note pad. "I think we can use yesterday's shootings as a good point of reference on his range abilities. From what Brett was saying Vin essentially broke a world record."

"Without a scope," confirmed Chris.

Blair's pen froze above his paper. "Without a scope? Wow . . . that's just . . . wow. That's a better range than Jim. Though he's always leaned more towards nearsighted so maybe it's not too surprising. We should test him for acuity at both the ultraviolet and infrared ends of the spectrum. We need to see how he does up close as well, find out if he can focus down to a microscopic level."

"That's possible?" wondered Chris. He probably shouldn't be surprised by the idea after what he'd watched Vin do yesterday, but part of him still felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.

"Jim has been able to focus in on finite particles that way once or twice. It can come in handy when others are having trouble finding trace evidence," explained Blair as he added a few more notes to his page. "Feel free to toss in ideas if you think of something."

"How about checking out his night vision?" suggested Chris, "If he doesn't need a scope maybe he won't need night vision goggles either."

"Perfect," agreed Blair writing down his father's idea. "I should have thought of that."

As they continued to talk, Blair enjoyed a free exchange of ideas that he'd never really experienced before when discussing Sentinels. Jim's eyes tended to glaze over when he talked about the history of Sentinels and his features turned downright pissy when Blair dared to mention testing his abilities. Simon had a standard 'I don't want to know, I don't need to know,' refrain. Megan wasn't all that interested once she found an explanation for the mystery that was Detective James Ellison. Even his head dissertation advisor seemed to assume that all of Blair's claims were exaggerations, at least until Sid started courting the university with free publicity to pressure Blair into signing over the book rights to his paper.

Chris _wanted_ to know about Sentinels. Even more, now that Vin was a confirmed Sentinel, Chris seemed to feel that he needed to know about Sentinels, Guides and everything that pertained to them. As he outlined sensory tests he'd done with Jim in the past, Chris was quick to propose ideas and adjustments that might work better for Vin. A mention of testing Vin's sense of smell led to a list of explosive chemicals that the young Sentinel might memorize, because Chris was sure that Vin would be much more receptive to tests that tied closely to the work they did. Blair's mention of Jim's extreme reaction to over the counter medicine had Chris calling Nathan to confer on the list of drugs that were already known to cause Vin adverse consequences.

Not surprisingly much of their discussion circled back to their common career in law enforcement. When Chris asked about extra precautions taken during evidence handling, Blair explained how simply rubbing his eyes after handling 'Golden' had caused Jim to temporarily loose his vision. When Chris wondered what to put into reports, Blair related Simon's ignorance is bliss method, but also pointed out Internal Affairs' eagerness to reopen all of Jim's previous cases when parts of Blair's dissertation had been released to the media. On the other hand, Blair's narrative of how the Juno assassin duo almost escaped justice for the murder of Jim's friend, because no one believed he could possibly have seen what he claimed, showed the down side to keeping Sentinel abilities secret.

Chris knew Vin's private nature would incline him towards keeping his abilities under wraps. He might not hide them from the Seven but he was unlikely to brag about them. Still, would those feelings continue to prevail when the criminals they were after avoided prosecution because Vin couldn't or wouldn't testify about the information his enhanced senses provided him with? Chris could see complications mounting which ever path they took. While as Vin's supervisor he could try to order the guardian down a certain road; his gut told him that Vin had to be the one to make the final call on what he revealed about his abilities.

"Jim's plane has landed and he just picked up his rental," Blair reported after reading a text from his fellow detective. "How are you doing?" Blair had to ask. "I haven't overloaded you with information yet, have I?"

"No," countered Chris. "I'm a former SEAL. The more intelligence I get before starting a new operation the better prepared I am," the ATF leader explained. After a moment he brought up another idea he had been considering. "We've covered most of the testing and use of individual senses, but what about ways to use the senses in tandem?"

"I helped Jim develop a technique we call 'piggybacking' that does just that," enthused Blair. "His strongest sense is hearing and his ability to zero in on the particular sound he is seeking is nothing less than phenomenal. Once he's locked onto that noise he can 'piggyback' one or more of his other senses and bring them to bear. A good example would be the time he heard a gun cocking on the far side of a parking garage. He piggybacked his vision and was able to aim his weapon before the carjacker could get into position." Blair finished off his second cup of coffee before continuing, "Jim has piggybacked his senses in several different combinations. Another advantage is that the risk of zoning drops dramatically when more than one sense is engaged, though spiking remains a concern."

Blair looked at his father, waiting until the elder man met his gaze before he spoke again. "I didn't say anything earlier, but you did an incredible job of handling Vin's spiking senses at the MARS compound. You're a natural, Dad. He responded to you without hesitation. I've got no doubt that you're the right Guide for Vin."

"And yet I had no clue what I was doing," confessed Chris. "Besides, it was you that somehow talked Vin into making that first shoot."

"Remember when I told Agent Kelly; that I was good at getting people to believe what I needed them to believe?" reminded Blair. "I just helped Vin access the abilities that were already there within. Some might say I was using my shamanistic abilities." Blair shrugged. "But when Vin's senses started to fail him you were the one that he turned to; the one who helped him regain control."

Chris nodded in acceptance of Blair's assessment, still a bit unnerved by the level of responsibility. "Well it gave me an idea of how to help him through a spike at least. But what about those zones you mentioned. You said they were almost like a petit mal seizure."

"Yes," Blair jumped in, "they tend to happen when a Sentinel throws too much focus into one sense, though I have seen Jim zone on a memory before. They'll just stop moving and sort of lock up or freeze in place. It's usually pretty easy to bring him out of a zone by just calling him back or maybe shaking his shoulder. They happened a lot more when Jim's abilities first reappeared, but now it's been over a year since his last zone. The biggest concern for Vin is going to be making sure he doesn't try to do any deep focusing on a lone sense without someone to pull him back if his senses go too far. Do that and you should be able to avoid the majority of the zones. As he gets better control of his abilities the problem should resolve itself for the most part."

"Okay, so I talk him through a spike and call him back out of a zone," Chris reviewed. "There goes my reputation for being able to go a week without speaking more than a dozen words. If being a Guide turns me into a conversationalist, I'm blaming it all on you."

Blair smiled appreciating the levity his father was bringing back into the discussion. "Could be worse; chatterbox and blabbermouth were some of the nicer nicknames I got tagged with as a kid."

"You can blame that on your mother," Chris insisted, "I always followed the belief that actions speak louder than words."

Outside the crunch of turning gravel alerted both men to the arrival of a vehicle on the long driveway. "Looks like Buck and JD. The others will likely be here soon. Let's pick these up and move to the living room. There we will have enough space to include everyone in this discussion." Chris quickly scooped up the papers near his seat. "My team specializes in undercover work. Ezra may be the best at it, but all of us take turns playing different roles. There are going to be times when the job will make it impossible for Vin and I to function as a Sentinel and Guide the way you have described. We need to figure out who else on the team might be able to act as a Guide or at least a back up guide."

"I agree," assured Blair, "though Jim's pretty insistent that not everyone can be a Guide. He's known Simon longer than me and trusts him just as much, but for some reason when Simon tries to help him through a sense crisis Jim ends up with a migraine. He has also sworn that if our coworker Megan pinches him one more time to bring him out a zone; he's going to slug her." Blair grinned at the thought of what Megan would do if Jim even tried to follow through on his threat.

Chris moved to the front door opening it wide to let his oldest friend and youngest recruit enter. "Coffee's in the pot. We're setting up in the living room," he informed his guests. A second car, this one carrying Josiah and Nathan pulled up next to Buck's vehicle.

Buck headed straight for the coffee pot but JD apparently had more pressing matters on his mind. "Is it true that you and Blair stopped a robbery in progress at some bar last night?"

"How did you hear about that already?" wondered Chris. While he wouldn't have been surprised to hear the event had been reported on the news, he had been assured that the Sheriff would withhold their names. The amount of undercover work he did made it vital that his name appear in print as little as possible. As he waited for JD's answer he noticed that his greenest agent looked more than a bit chagrined, rather like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "JD?"

"Okay, so I might, in theory, have developed an automated search program designed to find any reference to our team on law enforcement databases," JD rushed to explain.

Chris rubbed his forehead as he took a moment to decipher JD's statement. "Do I need to ask how many laws this program is breaking?"

"None," JD was quick to assure, "none at all. It maybe bends a regulation or two but it doesn't actually break any laws. It sends me an email notification when the name of one of the team shows up and this morning it was you."

Chris tilted his head to the side caught between respect and irritation. "I appreciate the intent, but JD you need to give me a heads-up before you start digging through the databases of our sister agencies on a regular basis. So who gets the notification if you don't retrieve it?"

"Huh?" grunted JD.

"Always have a back-up plan; preferably three," reminded Chris. "If you aren't able to check your email, who else does the notification get sent to?"

"Um, no one yet, but I can change that right now." JD powered up his laptop as he claimed a seat on the far end of the couch.

Nathan announced his arrival with a solid rap on the front door before letting himself in, "Hey Chris, Rain said to let her know if we need to make any changes or updates to Vin's medical files." The medic's wife was primarily a pediatrician, but she did have a few adult patients. She had also consulted enough times when one or more of the seven had been injured that over the past two years she'd become the doctor on record for most of the seven. Nathan saw another doctor because ethically, his wife couldn't be his physician, while Josiah stayed with the same general practitioner he'd been seeing for more than two decades.

Chris nodded; no doubt the earlier call to Nathan about problem medication for Vin had caught the lovely doctor's attention. "What about the retreat center you took Naomi to, Wolf Lodge? The boys mentioned that Ella had been there about a month back. Did you get any useful leads?" It had been months since they had any actionable intelligence about Ella. Chris didn't bother to hide how much he was hoping that had finally changed. It was bad enough that she continued to go unpunished for the crimes she had committed against Sarah and Adam; that she was still free to pose a threat to Blair and Chris's team was unacceptable.

"We connected her to another alias and a money trail that Josiah is trying to ferret out," Nathan reported. "We also got the name of a place near Vegas that she's been known to stay at. I'm sorry it's not more." Nathan couldn't imagine how hard it had to be for Chris knowing that the woman responsible for the deaths of his wife and son was still out there roaming free. The way she'd set up Team Seven for an ambush, and played a role in hiding Chris's first born just added to the list of reasons that confirmed she needed to be locked away from society.

"I'll petition for the financials first thing Monday morning," volunteered Josiah. "With any luck we can follow the money right to Ella's door step."

Chris nodded, but tried not to get his hopes up. He'd been so sure that he'd never find out who was behind his family's murders when Fowler committed suicide. He'd actually been momentarily shocked immobile when Ella had admitted she had been the one to order their deaths. Sure the rage had started to flow quickly enough, but then he'd heard the gunfire outside. In that moment saving his friends had been more important than exacting revenge. Ella had escaped, leaving behind only a letter filled with passionate declarations of her unequaled love. If the letter hadn't been a confession of sorts, he'd have destroyed the damned thing. Instead, it was sitting in an evidence locker somewhere.

Forcing his thought away from topics that were sure to put him in a black mood, Chris said, "I don't know what you've heard from the others about yesterday's bust or Blair for that matter, but something happened to Vin that will likely have an impact on the way we work as a team and I rather harsh it out here away from the office." Chris waved to the seating in the family room. "We're still waiting on Ezra and Vin but Buck can catch you up on what you missed while we wait.

Nathan shrugged and snagged an apple from the fruit dish before joining Buck and a still typing JD.

Josiah hesitated before tilting his head to the side a bit. "Is Vin a Sentinel?"

Chris was only a bit surprised by the question, but he didn't miss the way Blair stiffened at the term.

"How did you figure that out so quickly?" demanded JD. "Ezra wouldn't let me email anything that we found on Blair's research to you guys, said it would be better handled in person. I only just had time to explain everything to Buck on the car ride here."

"Perhaps if you'd recall the field of my first doctorate," Josiah hinted.

"Theology?" offered JD still confused.

"I thought it was psychology," countered Buck.

"Theology was his second doctorate," corrected Nathan, "psychology was his third. His first was anthropology."

"Yes," confirmed Josiah, "and Sir Richard Burton was quite a famous or infamous anthropologist, depending on your view point."

"Burton," exclaimed JD excitedly, "the one you referenced in you dissertation. He first identified Sentinels but everyone figured he was exaggerating to sell books or something."

"Wait," interrupted Buck. "I thought Burton was some traveling language specialist. Didn't he translate the Kama Sutra?"

"And Arabian Nights," added Chris. "He also explored Asia, Africa and parts of the Americas. But his monograph on Sentinels his hardly one of his better known works," Chris turned to Josiah, "which makes me wonder why you'd have Burton's Sentinels on your mind?" Blair had moved closer to hear the answer as well.

"During my discussions with Naomi Sandburg my interest in anthropology was mentioned. She shared that Blair too had studied and was indeed just shy of his doctorate when a mistake on her part forced him to declare his work fraudulent to protect his subjects," Josiah explained. Speaking directly to Blair he added, "She deeply regrets that her actions trapped you into accepting a position on the police force."

"I wasn't trapped," Blair declared adamantly. "I made a choice. Was I happy about trashing my career and allowing all of my peers to think I was a fraud? Of course not, but it was the only way I could protect Jim and get Sid and Rainer to drop the issue." Blair took a calming breath. "I was raised all over the world and met plenty of friends that won't have cared about the 'fraud'. I could have picked up and started over somewhere new. I wanted that badge so I could keep helping people. I chose to be a cop."

"You don't have to convince me," Chris soothed. The detective that he had glimpsed at the bust and witnessed again during last night's hold up had impressed the ATF leader. There were a lot of reasons people joined law enforcement; power trips, adrenalin junkies, crusaders, law and order types and more than a few that saw their work as simply another job. But the level of intensity Blair brought to his work showed that he truly wanted to help others by seeking justice. Chris had no doubt that that was a big part of why Blair decided to accept a badge. Chris also had a feeling that Blair had found a family of sorts amongst the members of Cascade's Major Crimes division, just as he had found one within his oddball team of ATF agents.

"Apparently I still have to convince Naomi, though," Blair tried not to get frustrated with his mother again, but he still didn't know how to get her to see the situation from his perspective and he was getting tired of trying to explain it over and over.

"Anyway," Josiah continued, "our conversation peaked my curiosity enough for me to want to learn more. Naomi had admitted that Blair's Master's thesis was based on Burton's Sentinel monograph so I reacquainted myself with Burton's original work. It was not hard to see the similarities between Burton's tribal watchman and our own Vin's extraordinary vision and tracking ability. The only thing I don't understand is why it would suddenly impact how our team works. Vin's been living and working with these abilities for years now, hasn't he?"

"More like his senses have been coasting on the level of a kid's bike with training wheels," Chris offered the best analogy he could think of. "At yesterday's bust the training wheels got traded in for a ten speed. Vin's going to need time to adapt to his new level of ability, and we're going to need to learn how best to work with them."

"It was incredible, Josiah," JD gushed, "Vin broke the world record for a sniper shot by like 20 meters. He did it twice in less than two minutes and they were moving targets! Sure he said he had a headache afterward, but he totally saved lives out there and no way could anyone else have made those shots."

"Then perhaps it is time that I share the package that Naomi asked me to deliver," Josiah said. "She hoped that you won't be too upset with her about it." The elder ATF agent opened the backpack he had brought with him. He pulled out what appeared to be a hand bound book of surprisingly new appearance.

Catching sight of the title: The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg caused the young detective to pale. "What . . . how did she?"

"As she explained the situation to me, apparently Sid wasn't the only person to receive a copy of your unfinished dissertation," Josiah elaborated.

Chris stepped up to steady his son when Blair went from pale to grey. "Get to the point Josiah," Chris barked. As much as Blair insisted it had been his choice and that he was happy where he was, Chris knew there had still been a lot of pain and sacrifice involved in Blair's transition from anthropologist to police detective. If his son's sacrifice had been rendered irrelevant by Naomi's long ago actions, and she had never bothered to correct the situation or let Blair know, Chris was going to have to have a very long conversation with his former lover.

"When she realized what a mistake she had made, she contacted everyone she'd sent it to and asked them to delete their copies," assured Josiah.

"But is she sure they did delete them? How many people are we talking about here?" Blair could feel a panic attack coming on. It wasn't fair; this was all supposed to be in the past. Over and done with!

"Naomi sent your dissertation to three other email addresses: your Aunt Marina, Markus Redfield, and your mother's own account. She figured that way she would have it ready for when you finally gave her permission to read it," Josiah explained. "Marina and Markus assured Naomi their copies would never see the light of day."

"Uhm, not to contradict," Nathan interrupted, "but isn't Markus Redfield an investigative reporter for the New York Times? That doesn't sound like the sort of person to turn his back on a readymade story, especially one that was already making headlines."

"No," countered Blair, feeling a bit better after hearing to whom the dissertation had been sent, "we've known Markus for years. He and Naomi had a thing when I was ten. They worked together to help legal immigrants being shaken down by gangs into giving up all of their hard earned cash. He's an aggressive investigator, but he's also got a pretty firm code of ethics. When I first started publishing papers he was a huge help, reviewing everything I sent him; often sending me suggestions and corrections after just a couple of hours. After my press conference trashing my work, he called and said that life was full of tough choices and he was proud of me for not taking the easy way. Jim and I had wondered if maybe he'd put enough together from my past work and the various news reports to guess what I'd really done, but he never once asked me if Jim was really a Sentinel or not. To know that he's known the truth all along and totally supported me in my decision," Blair sighed. "I think I may need to call and thank him later."

Chris felt a sudden surge of jealousy towards the man that had had the privilege of knowing Blair since he was ten. At the same time he was proud to know that his son had won the respect and loyalty of someone he admired. It was hard at moments like these to accept the vast amount of opportunities, challenges and learning experiences that they should have shared as father and son, but were now forever lost. Part of Chris wanted to attack Redfield for usurping his place in his son's life, while another part of him wanted to thank the man who had supported Blair when he could not.

Blair reached for the leather bound book that Josiah was still holding. "I'm guessing that Naomi didn't delete her copy of the dissertation."

"Not right away," Josiah explained, surrendering the manuscript. "She couldn't bring herself to destroy what was perhaps the last copy of your life's work. She deeply regrets that her actions forced you to give up so much. This book is her attempt to return some of what was lost. She understands that you may never get your dissertation published but she wanted to give you the book it should have become."

Blair found himself marveling at the text in his hands. The binding, the paper and even the font were perfect in every detail. Naomi must have spent days possibly even weeks working on this book for him, and he had to admit part of him treasured the fact that his dissertation was finally being seen the way he'd always dreamed it would be. Yes he was still upset about how she had lied about his father, but Blair felt the old residual anger regarding her actions during the 'dissertation disaster' slip away.

"Sounds like Vin and Ezra are finally here," Chris pointed out accompanied by the sound of more turning gravel in the drive.

"Heck," said Buck, "They're only fifteen minutes late. That's almost early by Ezra's standards."

"I bet Vin had to drag Ezra out the door to get him here this early," guessed Nathan.

"Maybe Ezra was up early for once," suggested JD only to be met with a snort from Nathan and outright laughter from Buck.

Chris moved to the window frowning at what he saw.

"Something wrong there pard?" asked Buck the first to pick up on his old friend's sudden tension. He moved closer to the window and waited for his team leader to reply.

"Vin's on alert," murmured Chris. The way sniper hopped out of Ezra's sports car immediately surveying his surroundings, indicated he was expecting trouble such as an ambush; which didn't make sense when they'd just pulled into Chris's drive. Ezra also exited his Jag with unusual efficiency, but the look he sent Vin let Chris know the undercover agent was following the lead of his coworker. Chris had always trusted Vin's instincts in the past. He opened the door for the duo, Vin's agitation enough to cause the team leader to take a long look towards the road to make sure they weren't being followed. "What's up?"

"Mr. Tanner has been strangely vague, beyond expressing the certainty that danger was approaching and we needed to get here as soon as possible," shared Ezra. "I have seen no evidence of any such threat, but, as always, I trust Mr. Tanner's intuition. Considering resent events it seems highly probable that he is picking up on some minute bits of evidence that I am unable to recognize."

Chris accepted Ezra's theory and turned to his friend, "Vin, what danger?"

The tracker seemingly ignored his boss, to turn in a circle and assess Chris's home. "Too crowded," he murmured, "need more space if it goes to hand-to-hand. Windows are a vulnerability." Without further explanation he grabbed a four foot by four foot bookshelf that housed a significant portion of Chris's video collection and started moving it to block one of the family room windows.

"I can help, Vin," volunteered JD eager to assist even if he didn't know what was going on. Still in the entry way, Chris looked increasingly frustrated at having his questions ignored. Even Ezra's infamous poker face failed to hide his fluctuating mix of concern and confusion.

The sight before Blair abruptly transformed as a flashback of Jim aiming his gun in Blair's face; for a split second not recognizing his partner. Then Jim's distracted explanation about needing more space to justify the suddenly vacant loft. "Ezra," Blair's voice held just a hint of tremor, "Did Vin's feeling of danger happen to develop about twenty minutes ago?"

"Yes," Ezra admitted, "almost exactly twenty minutes ago. You know what he is reacting to?"

"I've got a theory," the detective admitted. "Jim's plan landed at Denver's International Airport about twenty minutes ago."

"You're saying that Vin is freaking out because your partner landed at the local airport?" Chris asked. "But how would he even know? This is way beyond line of sight or how far a scent can be carried on the wind." As the three debated Vin urged JD to help him move another piece of furniture to block a second window.

"Like I said it's just a theory, but Jim was reacting to Alex on a subconscious level even before she arrived at the precinct or interacted with me." Blair shoved an agitated hand through his hair. "I doubt it helped that I was walking around with her scent on me. Scent . . . Jim's reactions to Alex's presence in his city were initially little more than irritation. The fight or flight instincts didn't kick into full gear until he was faced with her scent at both work and home. I bet Vin's picking up Jim's scent from me."

"Is that really likely?" asked Ezra sounding more curious than doubtful.

"We work together, live in the same apartment. Half the time Jim is folding my laundry. If Vin hasn't caught Jim's scent off me then he's got a pretty pathetic nose for a Sentinel," Blair insisted.

"Okay," considered Chris, "if your theory is correct, why now? If it's the scent of your partner why didn't Vin shift into fight-or-flight mode after he went online?"

"Maybe because it's not just the five senses that are heightened for a Sentinel," Blair supposed. "Jim once communicated with the spirit of a fifty years gone murder victim. He also admitted that Alex being in Cascade was like feeling a constant electrical charge that made all his hairs stand on end. So if Sentinels can tell when another is in their territory as part of their sixth sense, and we combine that with the fact that Vin is likely picking up Jim's scent from me and he knows that Jim is on his way here, approaching his tribe; his Guide. Is it so strange that his instincts are telling him to get defensive?"

"Maybe not," Chris conceded. There was still so much about the Sentinel thing that he didn't know. After their discussion this morning he'd thought he was getting a handle on the situation, but watching Vin turn his home into a defendable fortress brought more questions than answers. It didn't help that Blair had become increasingly on edge during their discussion. Were Vin's actions reminding Blair of his near fatal confrontation with Alex? "If you're right we need to get Vin thinking straight before your partner arrives. It's the only way we're going to be able to avoid a big confrontation."

Blair just nodded, happy to let his father take the lead. Honestly it was taking most of his concentration not to fall into another panic. Vin's continued actions were bringing back numerous memories of the worst week in Blair's life. He didn't like cowering in the corner, but the idea confronting Vin near paralyzed the young detective. Setting his jaw, Blair pulled out his cell to make sure that Jim didn't accidently make the situation worse. _'When you get to dad's house wait in the car for me.'_ Blair hit send on the text and hoped that his partner's instincts wouldn't interfere with his ability to take his Shaman's advice.

"That's enough Vin," Chris spoke in his command tone hoping to snap his Sentinel's attention back to him.

"What's the matter Chris," joked Buck, "don't you like the way your place is being redecorated?" Larabee's laser glare told Buck that now was not the time for jokes. Immediately backing down though still a little confused about why Chris was so ticked off Buck tried to mollify the man by offering, "Why don't I get everyone a round of drinks."

"Vin," only when Chris grabbed the sniper's arm did he turn to look at his leader. "I need you to settle down and talk to me." Even as he spoke he wondered a bit at the absurdity of the situation. Words were Ezra's forte; Josiah loved to debate; Buck and JD both could talk your ear off if given the chance; even Nathan with his impassioned speeches about social justice was a far better orator than Chris. Yet for some unknown reason Vin seemed to have chosen him as a Guide, which made it his responsibility to diffuse the situation, preferably before Detective Ellison arrived. A part of him wondered how his son had managed to Guide a Sentinel without training, simply by 'making it up' as he went from one crisis to another without developing an ulcer.

"We don't have time for talk," Vin was emphatic. "It could be here any minute."

"What could be here? Who are you worried about?" Chris demanded. "Are you talking about Blair's partner Ellison? He's not a threat to us Vin. I invited him here."

"No," insisted the tracker, "You don't understand. I can feel something really big coming. I've got to protect you and the team from it."

Chris latched onto the small clue Vin had provided, "Feel, like a constant static charge running over your skin?"

"How did you know?" Vin wondered, for the first time giving all of his attention to his Guide.

"According to Blair it's the same feeling that Ellison had when that rogue Sentinel showed up in Cascade," explained Chris, "But aren't you supposed to know more about these Sentinel legends than me? What did Grandfather say about Sentinels from different tribes meeting up?"

"I think he said it was best for all to have the meetings on neutral territory," Vin admitted rubbing the back of his neck.

"Neutral territory," Chris repeated shooting a look to his son. Blair seemed surprised and then thoughtful as he digested Vin's tidbit of information. "And you didn't think to mention this earlier?"

"I'd forgotten about it until you asked," Vin was looking somewhat sheepish now.

"Okay, well clearly we've screwed that part up," conceded Chris. "Are you going to be able to handle meeting Jim or do I need to send you somewhere else?"

"No! I mean shoot, I think I'll deal better if I'm here." The last thing Vin wanted to do was leave his team or his Guide. Maybe he'd let his nerves get the best of him earlier. He still wanted to be present when Blair's Sentinel showed up, and a small part of him wanted to make sure Ellison didn't get too close to Chris. It was probably best that Chris didn't know that last part. His extraordinary Guide was likely to get offended. Better to give him time to understand that Guardians were hardwired to protect and their Guides fell under that protection.

Chris looked to Blair who consented with a tip of his head. "Alright why don't we all sit down . . . in what's left of my family room. I'll give you the reader's digest version of what a Sentinel is while Blair keeps an eye out for his partner." When his team headed towards the couch and chairs, Chris paused beside his son. "Are you still good to do all this; the Sentinel and Guide lessons and explaining things to my team? I know the way Vin was acting when he arrived bothered you."

"It's not Vin, I'm just remembering some very unpleasant moments," said Blair. "Part of me is looking forward to speaking to your team. Teaching classes about Sentinels used to be a dream of mine." Blair paused looking out the window for his still absent friend. "Once Jim gets here and we see how well he and Vin get along we can talk about Sentinel lessons." Smiling he added, "You're already way ahead of the curve picking up the Guide knowledge."

Chris grinned back patting his son on the shoulder before joining his team. Snagging one of the chairs from the kitchen he cleared his throat to draw his men's attention. "Listen up because I'm not going to repeat this a dozen times. As of yesterday, Vin is a Sentinel and the rest of you are here to help us figure out how to best integrate his abilities into work."

"Wait a minute," demanded Nathan, "I'm still not sure what a Sentinel is."

"I could use a little clarification too," tossed in Buck, "the kid made them sound like comic book superheroes or something."

"I did not," JD defended, "Vin's way cooler than anything like that."

"Thanks JD," said Vin, "For the record I'm more used to the term used by Grandfather's tribe: Guardian."

Blair set down his cold empty mug, turned to watch out the kitchen window and listen to his father's team banter. The friendly exchanges helped sooth his frayed nerves; though despite Vin's apparent return to rational thought Blair still preferred to keep his distance. The anthropologist turned detective could hardly wait for his partner to arrive. What had started out as a chance to get to know his father had somehow turned into a Sentinel seminar. He should have been leaping with joy over the new challenge but instead he was staring out the window longing for his Sentinel. On one hand he had spent years imagining himself teaching others about Sentinels just like this, but on the other hand his experience with Alex tainted every thought he had regarding Vin. Objectively, he could admit that Vin had never acted in a manner which would justify Blair's fears. Nevertheless the too powerful memory of being pinned down under water; feeling the aching suffocation of his lungs as he struggled against the weight of the sentinel he had, for a short time trusted, all but shouted that Vin was a danger. He knew his reactions were off. There was no logical reason that watching Vin move furniture should make Blair suddenly taste the foul and stagnant fountain water he'd once choked on.

Realizing his hands were shaking Blair shoved his fists into his pockets and tried to pretend he didn't notice the concerned looks Chris was shooting him from the other room. Blair understood too much about post traumatic stress not to recognize what was happening to him, but that didn't mean he liked being reduced to a scared child, jumping at shadows and waiting for his Sentinel / security blanket to save him. Thinking of all of the times that Blair had told Jim that it was better to talk things out than try to bury traumatic events, he had to laugh. Because when it came to Blair's own traumatic event he'd skipped passed conversation and gone right to the backhoe that would bury those memories as deep as possible. He should have known better than to assume that they would stay hidden forever.

Josiah's rumbling base caught Blair's ear. Focusing in he could hear the agent / profiler / anthropologist (and people said Blair was an over achiever) giving the others a history lesson on Burton's travels in the Americas and more specifically what he reported about the Tribal Guardians, or Sentinels as he called them. Listening to the older man he recognized several references to Burton's work and hoped that having someone with such a firm grasp on Sentinel lore would be an asset to his father.

"Grrr." The low throaty growl had Blair jumping back in fright. He had never heard the young Sentinel move, but suddenly Vin was right there beside him, glowering out the window. "He's here," the Guardian announced in the same snarling tone.

In the family room Chris was wondering how he had missed noticing Vin's departure. While the agent had a reputation for being stealthy, this sort of silent progress was usually reserved for their busts. "Vin, I think it's time to stand down." Chris could see the way his sniper's actions were agitating his son.

For Blair the words that Vin had spoken were finally sinking in, and sure enough he could see a new car making the turn up the long driveway. Not for the first time Blair wished he had the Sentinel vision to see his best friend's face.

Chris stepped between Blair and Vin, facing the new Guardian. "Stop Vin, we've got the warning. We know another Sentinel is here and you're unhappy about it, but you have got to calm down and get this aggression under control. Ellison is my invited guest, remember?"

Behind him Blair watched the rental park beside Josiah's SUV. Jim must have received Blair's text because he didn't get out of the car. Blair was willing to bet a hefty sum that it was taking all of Jim's willpower to wait where he was. Even someone with Blair's limited vision could tell that the driver of the car was fidgeting restlessly.

Vin snarled again, "You better not be thinking that I'm going to let you go out that door without me, Cowboy."

Chris's eyes narrowed and his jaw set. "I wasn't aware you were in a position to decide what to _let_ me do," he hissed back. The rest of the team was shocked silent by the sudden confrontation between their two usually in sync coworkers.

"Enough!" Blair was almost as surprised as the others by his abrupt outburst. "Vin you aren't in charge here," warned the young Shaman, poking the Guardian in the chest hard enough to force the man back a step. "I get that your instincts are riding you hard right now, but you should get that your judgment is compromised. Chris is your Guide; let him do his job and guide you." Vin looked startled while Chris looked proud. Blair realized that it probably wasn't appropriate to have the first words that he spoke to Vin since bringing him online to be tinged with anger, but the weight that had taken up residence in his chest was finally gone and he was starting to hope that he might actually be capable of controlling this situation. "Further more, that Sentinel out there is not here to steal your Guide, harm your tribe or even get into some macho contest of wills with you. That is my Sentinel out there and he is here for me," Blair stepped forward; invading Vin's personal space, "and if you think for one second that I'm going to let you get between us . . ."

"No," Vin's startled voice cracked. "I meant no disrespect, Shaman." In truth Vin had forgotten the veteran Guide was there, so distracting was the threat of Ellison to his Guide and their team.

"Then prove it by stepping out of my way," Blair demanded. "My Sentinel is waiting for me."

Vin shifted away from the door he had instinctively blocked when he thought Chris might go out to greet Ellison. Blair pinned the guardian with one last stare and then stomped out the door.

Blair was racing down the porch steps before any one inside spoke. "Well I reckon that settles the debate over whether or not Blair inherited the Larabee temper," drawled Buck.

"Guess it does," agreed Chris with a smug grin.

"I wouldn't have thought such a little fellow could so easily intimidate someone larger than him," the jovial mustached man admitted.

"Blair prefers to let others underestimate him," explained Chris. "Speaking of being underestimated; what was it you were saying about what you would or wouldn't _let_ me do?" Chris's voice was a dangerous whisper as he turned back to his would-be Sentinel.

Vin heaved a heavy sigh. Hadn't he decided just moments before that Chris would not appreciate some of the Guardian's more protective tendencies? Unfortunately, there was no way to retrieve the words that had already escaped his lips. "The whole point of becoming a guardian is to protect others," Vin tried to explain. "There is no one that I need to protect more than my Guide."

"Wrong," countered Chris, "Ellison might get away with pulling rank on Blair because he's the senior detective with the military background, but don't mistake their relationship for ours. I am both the senior field agent and your boss. I am not going to just sit behind a desk and wait for you to bring me the bad guys because you think there might be danger out there." Chris pushed on when Vin started to protest. "That doesn't mean that I'm going to ignore you when you've identified a threat to me or the team. But you have got to let me watch your back the same way you watch mine." Running a hand through his blonde mane Chris decided it was time to lay it all on the line. "From everything Blair's said the Sentinel / Guide connection we're looking at is a lifetime commitment. If you are really certain you want me as your Guide then this partnership has to be one of equals. Agreed?" Chris offered his hand to his potential Sentinel surprisingly nervous about how his friend would respond.

Clear blue eyes stared intently into hazel green. "Agreed," Vin accepted Chris's palm, shifting the handshake into a warrior's grip bringing up his other hand to clasp his Guide's tight. "I reckon it was too much to hope that you'd suddenly become all calm and agreeable."

Chris let out a little chuckle, "Where would be the fun in that?" A feeling of utter peace settled over Chris and he recognized this moment as one that would change is life. The last time he'd felt this way had been holding Adam for the first time. Though there were still times he believed he had failed his youngest child, reality insisted that he was not infallible and he knew Vin would not expect that from him.

Blair was still out side talking with his partner, gesturing wildly with his hands to emphasize his point. Deciding to allow his son as much time as he needed to reconnect with his partner Chris closed the door leaving it unlocked. "Let's sit back down boys; it's time to continue our Sentinel 101 class."

* * *

><p>Blair was down the porch steps and half way to Jim's rental when the tall detective exited the vehicle, concern on his face. Blair's own features broke into a huge grin despite Jim's worried countenance. He ignored any rules about unmanly displays of overt affection and grasped his partner in a bear hug.<p>

"Oomph, did you miss me Chief?" Jim joked.

Blair allowed himself one more squeeze before releasing his friend and stepping back. "Man, you've got no idea how much," he asserted. Jim ruffled Blair's curls playfully and Blair noticed the way his Sentinel's nostrils flared. His Sentinel was scenting him and the knowledge of it comforted Blair more than he could have thought possible.

"It sounded a little tense when I first pulled up," Jim's worried face was back again. When Blair only smirked at Jim's confession the Sentinel justified, "Your text said not to walk in when I arrived it didn't say anything about listening in." Trying to turn the conversation back to Blair he added, "That was quite the verbal smack down I heard you deliver in there. I almost felt sorry for the guy."

"Yeah, I may have been a little over the top. He isn't the only one suffering from compromised judgment," admitted Blair.

"What are you talking about?"

"I was fine until yesterday's bust, when I somehow managed to talk Vin into opening up to his abilities. I'm honestly still not sure how I managed to do that," Blair confessed.

"Like there is anything you can't talk someone into, if given enough time and motivation," Jim pointed out.

"The really strange part was I could actually feel it the second he went online, like a tingle under my skin." Blair made a mental note that he really needed to document the sensation and then continued, "I did a good job of avoiding Vin after the bust, and what with Dad and I walking in on the hold up last night there wasn't really time to stew about the situation."

"Slow down Chief. Did you say you walked in on a holdup?" Jim sought to clarify.

"It's really not as bad as it sounds," assured Blair. His arms started to swing into full motion, a clear sign to the Sentinel that his Guide hoped to cajole Jim to his point of view. "We stopped off at this little Bar and Grille that Dad knows and walked in on a couple of idiots waving guns. I did my distraction thing; Chris did his SEAL take-down thing; we snagged a third bad guy in the back; waited for the local LEOs and enjoyed a totally awesome dinner on the house as a thank you for saving the day . . . or night as the case may be."

"Sandburg that story has holes so big you could drive a Mack truck through them," Jim criticized. "But I'm willing to let it go for now because I'm still waiting to hear why you think your judgment is compromised." The taller detective almost regretted his attempt to get the conversation back on track when his comment brought a sudden stillness to his friend.

"Flashbacks," Blair whispered, "Ever since Vin showed up this morning I've been battling flashbacks from, you know, Alex and the fountain."

"Well damn, Chief," Jim tugged Blair close, resting his chin on his Guide's curls. "Has Tanner been . . .?"

"No," Blair cut off before Jim could finish, pushing back to meet his partner's eyes. "Vin hasn't done anything more threatening than growl. For the most part he's been keeping a respectful distance and addressing me as Shaman; like I actually have a clue what I'm doing."

"You've always done right by me," Jim reminded.

"Now that you mention it, Vin has been way nicer then you were the first couple of times we met," Blair teased.

"I wonder why that would be, Dr McKay. Or was that Dr. McCoy?" Jim teased right back, referring to how Blair had lied about who he was during their first meeting. Earning a chuckle from the shorter man Jim decided to tackle the elephant in the room. "So you're saying that even though Tanner hasn't acted in any way aggressive, you're still having flashbacks to Alex drowning you in the fountain. Do you have any idea why?" Blair clinched his jaw and looked away. "Well that was a yes if ever I saw one. Come on Chief, spit it out."

"Honestly, I'd be edgy meeting any Sentinel after Alex. Maybe it's worse because despite Chris and the others around us I have still felt like I've been facing Vin alone," Blair struggled to articulate the thoughts he really would have preferred to avoid.

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Just like you had to face Alex alone when I kicked you out," he inferred with a frown.

"Please, Jim, can we not do the guilt," Blair begged. "Neither of us handled the Alex situation well and there is plenty of blame to go around." Blair leaned back against the door of Jim's rental car. "Besides, rehashing all of the mistakes we made with Alex doesn't address how we handle our current situation. We need to figure out a way for you and Vin to coexist without either of you getting all territorial."

"Need?" Jim was a little surprised by how desperate his friend sounded.

"Yes, need," repeated Blair. "I need you and Vin to get along. I need to be able to keep building this relationship with my father. I mean, I know we only met two days ago but I'm already way past the point where I could walk away without a backward glance. As different as we are there is a connection between us; a strong connection. I don't think I've felt anything this strong for Naomi in years; hell, decades. I don't have to explain to him why I'm a cop, he just gets it. Last night during the hold up, I knew Chris wasn't happy with what I was doing but he backed my play anyway. He trusted me to lead us out of danger. He doesn't mind my babble, hasn't gotten the least bit judgmental about my past or the things I've done. He actually told me point blank that short of me being a serial killer he wasn't going to turn away from me. We discussed Sentinels for two hours this morning and he still wanted to know more. Not even my advisor ever showed that much interest in my ideas and knowledge before." Blair paused uncertain if his meandering explanation was getting his point across. "I need this, Jim. I need my dad."

"Which will be difficult at best if Tanner and I can't accept each other," said Jim. "Does it help that I'm not feeling all that territorial or aggressive?"

"Well it confirms a theory I've been working on," Blair said. "You were only territorial with Alex in Cascade. In Sierra Verde there were clearly other motivations taking precedence. Vin mentioned a bit ago that Grandfather had told him it was best if Guardians met on neutral territory. Now, here in what Vin considers his territory, he's the one getting edgy. Maybe it's a Sentinel version of home field advantage. The heightened awareness, the flowing adrenaline and endorphins would be a huge benefit to the Sentinel trying to protect his or her tribe."

"So what," wondered Jim, "do we hop back into the car and try to do introductions in Colorado Springs?"

"No," Blair's face became resolute. "We're going to face this head on. No way am I going to schedule visits with my father in neutral cities to avoid snarling Sentinels. Are you ready to meet my dad and his team?"

"Sure," Jim finished speaking to be towed to the front door by his determined and surprisingly strong partner.

Blair knocked twice and then opened the door, but hesitated at the threshold. "Is it okay if Jim and I come in now Dad?" Blair focused solely on his father to the point of ignoring the others in the room. His inner voice telling him that to avoid bloodshed it was the Guides that needed to take control of the situation.

Chris didn't answer immediately, instead considering Blair's request before turning to Vin. He looked at the young Guardian sternly, seeming to issue a dozen commands with his silent stare. Vin indicated he understood and acquiesced with a tip of his head. Chris stood and invited, "Please come in. I been waiting to meet the partner that I've heard so much about."

"Dad, I would like to introduce Detective James Ellison, formerly of the Army Rangers, and current Sentinel of Cascade," began Blair feeling strangely like a husband introducing his Vegas bride to the folks. Shaking away the fanciful notion he continued, "Jim, this is ATF Group Supervisor Christopher Larabee, my father."

"It's an honor to meet you sir," Jim extended his hand; the soldier within standing at attention before a senior officer. During his background investigation on Naomi's long lost love, he had found that many who knew Larabee agreed he was tough but fair and one of the most determined SOB's a person was ever likely to meet. It certainly explained where Blair had gotten the spine of steel that he hid beneath his friendly attitude and inviting chatter.

"Likewise Detective, and please call me Chris," they shared a firm handshake before Chris turned to the others. "I'd like you to meet the rest of my team. Buck Wilmington is a former SEAL like myself and now acts as our explosives expert. The young man next to him is JD Dunne, our computer and surveillance go-to guy. Josiah Sanchez is our profiler and resident philosopher. Nathan Jackson is our forensic specialist as well as a tactical medic. Ezra Standish is our lead undercover agent who also likes to supplement his income with his Vegas winnings. Challenge him to poker at your own risk. Last but not least is Vin Tanner; a former army ranger, like yourself. He acts as our tracker, sniper and weapons expert. He has also just become my Sentinel."

"My?" repeated Blair, surprised by the possessive tone after all of the hesitation Chris had shown regarding the position of Guide.

"We worked things out while you were greeting Jim," Chris explained.

"Cool," Blair smiled. Already the tingling under his skin that had so bothered him before was now barely noticeable. The young Guide didn't know if it was because his Sentinel had arrived, his father had accepted the responsibility of Guide, or perhaps a combination of both. He was just glad the sense of impending doom was gone.

"Vin," The tracker rose at his Guide's summons. "It's time for you to meet Blair's Sentinel Jim. Shake hands and play nice boys," though the words were said teasingly neither man missed the warning command within them. "Blair, Nathan had some questions that you would probably be able to answer better than me." Without waiting for his son's agreement Chris pulled him towards the empty chairs and away from the two Sentinels.

"I'm not sure," Blair hesitated to the point of dragging his feet. He wasn't so sure he liked the idea of leaving the two to their own devises.

"They are grown men," Chris insisted. "If they can't handle a simple meet and greet without us hovering over their shoulders then it is past time that they learned."

The look Vin sent after his leader was both irritated and frustrated but held little surprise. Jim waited silently across from him, certain to the core of his being that as Sentinel of this territory, Vin had to be the one to make the first move.

Finally, Vin turned back to his adversary/peer and after a deep breath held out his right hand. As their flesh met Vin remained tense for a few seconds; staring the Sentinel down before coming to some unspoken conclusion and finally relaxing. "I know Blair calls us Sentinels, but I'm used to the term Guardian. That's what my tribe would have called us."

Jim accepted Vin's offering and even restrained the impulse to strength test the younger man's grip. While he wasn't completely comfortable with Tanner yet, it was nothing like the overwhelming paranoia that had gripped him during Alex's arrival in Cascade. His investigation of the army sniper turned ATF agent indicated someone he could respect and hopefully cooperate with, so he was willing to let Vin take the lead since he was the outsider here. Besides he owed Blair his best effort at making this work. "Tribe?" Jim inquired. "Blair mentioned that you'd been pulled off of a reservation but he didn't mention which nation."

"Kiowa," Vin replied. "They switched the social worker handling my case and the new one was of the opinion that I was better off in a Christian group home than the house of a godless heathen." Once the handshake was finished Vin tucked his hands into his jean pockets. "She wouldn't even listen when I tried to explain that Grandfather was a Christian, he just respected to old ways too. For her it was either-or; there could be no compromise. I don't know nearly as much as I should because of her."

"You still probably got a better start than me. I didn't get much training with my senses until after my copter crashed and the Chopec took me in." Remember the way his senses came and left over the years, he admitted, "Even then, a lot of what I learned didn't stick."

"Didn't you have any family that helped you when you were little?" Vin's grandfather had known much about the legends and abilities of tribal guardians. Yet even his mother had helped and encouraged him with his senses during his first few years.

"No," Jim said, "Mom left us, Dad spent all of his time working, and most of the parenting was left to the maid. When my senses did force their way into my father's notice he called me a freak and warned me that I was never to use or tell anyone of my senses." He shrugged, "It was Dad's rather messed up way of trying to protect me."

"Meeting up with Blair must have changed things," assessed Vin. He could hardly imagine the sort of childhood Jim was describing. Sure there had been times when he'd lacked for material things, but he had never doubted that somewhere there were others that truly loved and supported him; even if he couldn't be with them.

"That's one way of putting it," chuckled Jim before becoming more serious. "At first, I hated the way my senses were always out of control. I wanted them gone. Blair was like a pit bull, insisting that I just needed to learn how to use them. Plowing through all of my objections until I could see all of the good they could do. Now, I wouldn't give them up if I could." Noticing that Blair's anxious gaze kept flitting their way, Jim offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. "So how is that territorial imperative? Are you still as edgy as when I first pulled up?" Jim asked bluntly.

Vin's lips quirked into a half grin. "Actually most of it seemed to go away once we were introduced. Not saying that I want you to move to Denver or anything, but I'm not feeling the need to go to war anymore."

"Good," said Jim. "Blair is already totally invested in building something with Chris, and I don't think either of us wants to be a strain on their relationship."

"No," concurred Vin, "the last few days, Cowboy has been happier than I've ever seen him. Buck said it was like looking at the Chris he used to know back before Sarah and Adam were killed." Vin was contemplative for a minute before saying, "I'm going to have JD forward everything we've got on Ella Gaines to you. I know Blair knows who she is and what she's done. But if he's anything like his father, and early results show a lot more similarities than appearances would indicate, he'll likely try to handle her on his own and she is too deadly to take that risk."

"I'd appreciate that," assured Jim. If this Gaines woman posed any kind of risk to Blair he wanted to know about it. "So Blair mentioned something about you breaking a world record yesterday," Jim let the words trail off inviting the other man to fill in more details. As a detective he had often engaged in 'shop talk' about the good, the bad and the ugly involved in police work. Never before had he been presented with the opportunity to talk shop with another Sentinel. He rather liked the idea of comparing note with someone who could truly understand how these super senses could radically alter your life.

"Yeah, JD keeps going on about that. I was just trying to protect Kirk and that family. The senses got pretty bad right in the middle of things. Even after Chris helped me get them back under control, I still had a whopper of a headache," Vin's brow creased at the memory of the pain.

"Spikes always lead to headaches, in my experience. Once you learn how to avoid most of them it won't be such a big deal, but until then you'll want to see what kind of pain relievers work best. Start with very small doses until you know how the drugs are going to affect you. It only took me one day to learn that lesson. I walked around half-blind; it looked like Andy Warhol had painted the world."

Vin grimaced, "Reckon Nathan will have some ideas about that. Hey you're not saying that coffee or beer is going to be a problem, are you?"

"No," Jim assured, "though you might have to cut back if smell or taste are giving you trouble, just until you've got them under control."

"I think I'll try a beer now, just to make sure they won't hassle my senses," decided Vin. "Do you want one?"

"I think I do," decided Jim following the younger Sentinel as he headed to the kitchen.

In the family room Blair barely restrained himself from doing the happy dance of joy about the room. Not only were Jim and Vin not killing each other, but they actually seemed to be getting along. Though he couldn't hear what they were saying; their body language indicated the beginnings of camaraderie. Could it really be this easy? For the first time in forever it felt like all of the aspects of his life were weaving seamlessly together.

"Not as bad as you expected," Chris bumped his shoulder.

"Guess I was giving myself panic attacks over nothing," Blair conceded. "I'd say something about how perfect things are going, but I'm afraid I'll jinx us."

Chris didn't dismiss Blair's unease; his own illusions about happily ever after long ago destroyed. "I wish I could guarantee you a perfect life."

"Please," Blair dismissed, "if it was perfect it wouldn't be life. Besides you can't appreciate the highs with out going through the lows."

Chris accepted Blair's words with a sad and knowing smile, "I'm really glad you agreed to stay the week, you know that right?" Chris wasn't sure if Blair understood what he was trying to say. Emotional dialog was not his forte.

"Of course," assured Blair, "I'm really glad too. Did I tell you yet about when Brackett made us walk through the minefield?" Blair may not have known his father long but it wasn't hard to figure that he wasn't a 'share your feelings' kind of guy. It didn't matter when Blair could sense the depth of Chris's emotions. For the first time Blair knew what it felt like to have a father that he could both love and respect. His Sentinel was close by and ready to support him. He had an opportunity to teach others everything he'd learned over the years about Sentinels and Guides. He'd even met a second Sentinel – make that Guardian - who thankfully wasn't a psycho and his father was willing to Guide. Blair wasn't sure how long life was going to stay this way but he intended to enjoy it while it lasted.

The End

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed the earlier chapters as well as those who checked the 'story alert' or 'favorite story' boxes for Tribal Guardians. Knowing there is interest is part of what keeps me writing.

Those looking for more of this series can check out 'Channeling Rage' and 'A Good Guide is Hard to Find'.

here...


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